


We Should Scream

by treasuredleisure



Series: Two Grown Men With Overgrown Hearts [1]
Category: X-Men (Comicverse), X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Daddy!charles, Domesticity, Fatherhood, Kid Fic, M/M, Single Parents, This is NOT a happy fluffy fic, daddy!Erik
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-05
Updated: 2013-04-05
Packaged: 2017-12-07 13:56:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 25,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/749279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/treasuredleisure/pseuds/treasuredleisure
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i> He sees Erik smile gingerly. The same lips descend on David’s head of hair in a quiet kiss. He gives Charles a brief pat on his back before he disappears behind the hallway wall.</i>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>  <i>For reasons unbeknownst to him, he drops a kiss on his son’s head – in exactly the same place where Erik’s lips had been. </i></p>
            </blockquote>





	We Should Scream

* * *

 

 

PART ONE

 

* * *

 

 

Babbling and gurgling, his daughter throws the wooden cube over her shoulder and lunges into a crawl across the carpet and into her father’s legs.

 

“Lorna, my love, Daddy _will_ be back. Promise.”

 

She wails in protest, showing Erik the few teeth that sprout from her pink gums. He relents and bends to scoop her up into his arms. He plants a loud, wet kiss on her plump cheek; she giggles and squirms, slapping her small hand over her father’s nose.

 

“Ow. Thank you, Lorna, but there was no need for that.”

 

“WOW!”

 

“… Not quite. Now, go play with everyone else, okay? Play with dolly. She misses you.”

 

He bends to put her gently back onto the dizzyingly colourful carpet and hands her the nearest doll. Lorna immediately occupies herself with shaking her by the leg upside down. Erik sighs and stands straight, his bones clicking as he rotates his shoulders. He looks down at his daughter one last time and grins at how content she is with simply rattling the doll from side to side. It flings afar and she stands up to go get it. It’ll never be easy to leave her, even for work, even when he knows they’ll be reunited in a few short hours.

He knows he’ll never do what her mother did to them; it disconcerts him to think of how anyone could.

 

Erik grabs his coat and waves his farewell to a member of staff – Angel, he remembers – and turns to leave when he sees a man burst through the door holding a baby car seat out in front of him. The child that he holds adds to the cacophony of crying children, most competitively. Erik winces.

 

“Oh gosh – I’m so sorry, please excuse me,” the man says, wangling his way through the parents to head towards the carpeted area. He’s flustered from cheek to cheek, his hair tumbling in unsophisticated waves and his corduroy jacket stained with blobs of presumably, baby food. The man is young, much younger than the other male parents here, as is the child crying in its seat that’s placed carefully down next to Erik’s feet. Erik steps to the side and watches,  sympathetically, as the man falls to his knees in front of the child and brushes his hair out of his face. He begins to coo and hush the child, rocking the seat back and forth as his eyes widen and lips purse in comical gestures. 

 

For all the time Erik’s been coming to this day care centre, he’s never seen this man before. He sees so much of himself when he looks down at the young man – from his dishevelled clothes to his failed attempts at placating his child – that when the man tries to take his bleating child out from inside the car seat, he goes to help him.

 

“Here – you should probably put this down,” Erik offers, crouching down to move the handle down. The man then pulls his child out with more ease and quickly places the little one over his shoulder. He pats him gently on the back.

 

“Thank you,” he exhales in a rush, looking at Erik with a saddened, self-deprecating expression. Erik nods, understanding. This had been _him_ just last year. “I’m running very late. And it’s David’s first time here.”

 

“He’ll like it,” says Erik, brushing his hand over the young boy’s tousled mop of blonde curls, not a thing like the man’s. “How old is he?”

 

The staccato of his cries begin to slowly diminish as his tiny fingers grip the man’s collars, allowing him to speak without having to raise his voice.

 

“This little man’s eight months,” the man says, proudly. He holds him under his arms out in front of him and kisses his forehead tenderly. “Only been on the Earth for eight months, and I’ve already lost a lifetime of sleep.”

 

Erik chuckles and looks straight at Lorna, who’s awfully elated to see her father still hasn’t left yet. She scurries towards him to show him a baby doll.

 

“Baby,” she claims, finger jabbing into the toy’s eye. Erik nods his head to affirm and takes the offered baby until she runs to find him something else to give and drop onto his lap.

 

“She yours?” the man beside him asks, looking curiously from him to Lorna.

 

“She’s my angel,” Erik says, and this time his smile grows with pride. “Her name’s Lorna.”

 

“She’s beautiful. Looks nothing like yourself. Oh – not that you’re _not._ Beautiful, I mean. You are, but – not in – I don’t mean to be—”

 

“It’s okay,” Erik grins, taking the second alphabet block his daughter gives him before dashing away in search for more. “She doesn’t look like me, yes.” The complete picture of her mother, he doesn’t say.

 

“Well, um. Sorry about that. It’s just – I’m an absolute _mess_ today. You’ve found me at my worst.”

 

“It can be hard. Don’t worry, nobody expects you to be brilliant at this,” he sighs, looking around at all the other children and their mothers, their parents. He wonders, meekly, if the man is a single parent like him. He turns to give him a smile as the man reveals a bright blue pacifier from inside his pocket. He takes it out of its small case and props it inside his son’s mouth. The little boy’s eyes widen, big and blue like his father’s, and the man sighs in relief. He looks at Erik gratefully.

 

“You look very put together, if you don’t mind my saying. Seriously, I just don’t understand how people do this.”

 

Erik smiles a little and looks down at the pile of toys in his lap. He looks at Lorna and remembers all the times he had clung to her and cried, all the times he had wanted to _scream_ because he couldn’t understand what she wanted, couldn’t keep her from crying herself. And now, she bounces around with her pink cheeks and clothes that not only match, but fit – and when someone appreciates it, calls him _put together_ , Erik’s heart swells with satisfaction. Even if it is a complete stranger who looks like he’s about to descend into a nervous breakdown and smells of squashed bananas infused with baby wipes.

 

“You will get better at it. It’s not easy at first but – believe me – they grow up quick.”

 

“Yeah?” he says, looking down at his son who plays with puzzle pieces. He’s fairly good at it, too, eyes not leaving the shapes once as he slots them into place. “I just… didn’t expect to be doing this alone.”

 

Erik swallows and looks up at the man, who smiles down at his son and then drops his head into his hands, sighing.

 

“Is David’s mother not with you?”

 

“Something like that.”

 

“You’re doing a pretty good job, then. I know what it’s like,” he confesses. Caught in the flurry of his emotions, all the nostalgia he’s steeped in, he picks at the sequins on a doll’s dress. Lorna rushes over to chuck another doll his way. He catches it and nods his thanks. Angel looks over at the cluster of toys with disapproval as she tries to stop Lorna from taking more toys to her father.

 

“Really? You’re alone?”

 

Erik bites his bottom lip in thought. He’s hardly _alone_.

 

“I only have Lorna and Lorna only has me.”

 

The man tilts his head to the side and narrows his eyes.

 

“If you can do it, I can do it.”

 

“ _Exactly_ ,” Erik replies, meeting the man’s gaze. He smiles placidly, a large warm smile with every muscle of his face. “I’m Erik.”

 

“And I’m _late_ ,” he gasps, looking up at the wall clock. He shoots up to stand and whirls around to dodge a passing child before he hops over to David. He frames his round face with his hands and whispers quietly to him, then drops a kiss in his hair. Erik thinks he’ll leave, then, the nameless young man with the adorable little boy, the one who’s also a lone parent and late for work – but then he whips back round to go to Erik. Erik smiles when he’s told, “I’m also Charles. It was very nice talking to you, Erik.”

 

“You too, Charles.”

 

After that, he runs back to the door, car seat in tow, and leaves for work. Erik does the same once he’s deposited the various toys back into their places and has kissed his daughter another temporary goodbye.

 

:::

 

“Did you go to the hospital today?”

 

Charles shakes his head and takes another sip from his mug. He swings his jacket on – grimacing at its horrid state and odour – and eyes the clock. He can make it in time. _He will make it in time._

 

“Are you going now?”

 

“No, Hank. I’ve got to collect David and drop him off at Raven’s.”

 

“Oh. But it’s your only free period. You were supposed to look over my dissertation.”

 

Charles drops the car seat back on the ground and shuts his eyes, letting out a groan.

 

“—It’s… it’s okay.”

 

“Hank, I’m so very sorry. I’ll look over it as soon as I get home, I swear. I’ll tell Raven to make it up to you.”

 

“Um.”

 

“Now I need to go. My poor baby’s all on his own. But I’m very sorry. If any of my students come knocking for me, tell ‘em I’m gone,” he calls, half out of the room. Somewhere at the foot of the hallway, he remembers the car seat with his baby bag and jogs back inside for it. He waves at Hank again, dearly apologetic, and runs back out to the car park.

 

_He will make it on time._

 

And he does – in fact, he’s earlier than he had anticipated. Climbing out of his car, he leaves the car seat and takes his baby changing bag instead, hoping he’ll have time for a quick clean before he’s sent to Raven. He takes off his blasted jacket and scowls at what a mess he’s made of himself. He’s inwardly grateful he’d taken it off while teaching, or he’s pretty sure his students would’ve bristled away.

 

“Oh gosh, I’m the smelly professor. I’m _that_ professor,” he mutters to himself as he shuts his car and heads inside the building. He’s met, instantly, with the chorus of screams and yells and shouts. He finds his son leading the noisy choir, mouth wide open and facing the ceiling. Charles rubs his eyes and advances towards his child.

 

“Mr Xavier?”

 

“Yes,” he says absently, too busy trying to take his child out of the feeding high-chair. Apples, as he knows, are not a favourite. He turns to look for Angel, who stands behind him holding a carton of milk. “Yes, Angel? Is everything okay? He wasn’t a problem, was he?”

 

“Mr Xavier, it was David’s first day. You were supposed to stay with him the whole time. It’s one of our rules.”

 

“Oh, _bugger_. I am _so_ sorry, I had three classes today. I completely forgot. I’ve had extended paternity leave, you see, and the University is already short on staff—”

 

Angel lifts a hand and nods her head, gesturing him to stop. Charles holds his son close to his chest as he continues to cry.

 

“It’s okay. He wasn’t too bad. It was just the apples, they got him worked up,” she says good-naturedly, ruffling David’s hair. “I’m sure he won’t be a problem, though.”

 

“That’s so good to hear. I apologise, the apple-dislike is a new discovery. I completely forgot to specify.”

 

“That’s okay, Mr Xavier. We’ll keep his preferences in mind.”

 

“Thank you ever so much. Where can I go to change him?”

 

“Right at the back, turn left, and then you’re—oh, Mr-Xavier—”

 

Angel points to his shoulder, but Charles knows. He’s already aware. He can hear it. He can _smell_ it.

 

“Christ,” he hisses, looking up at the ceiling, the colours of the rainbow painted across. He purses his lips tightly together and carefully doesn’t turn his head. David stops crying. “I’ll be off, then. I think I’ve just been decorated.”

 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then,” she says, brows crinkling in compassion.  Of course, she probably knows how it feels to be covered in vomit. “His pacifier’s in his pocket. Bye, sir.”

 

“Yep.” He slowly lifts David off his shoulder and looks at him from where he’s held up. “I could’ve done without that, but thank you, good sir, for showing me what you’ve eaten.”

 

He bats his lashes, sucking innocently on his thumb.

 

“Nice. Now let’s get us cleaned up.”

 

Holding David carefully in his arms, he makes his way to the back to find the baby changing room, kicking each door open with his leg. By the time he finds the room, a man sticks their hand out to open it for him.

 

“Thank—Erik,” he says, surprised, when the man holding the door open turns out to be the man from earlier in the day. He smiles at him weakly when he gains another sympathetic look from him. This time, the tall man looks pitifully at the puke on his shirt. “What?” he shrugs, sticking his shoulder out in show. “It’s a new look. Do you like it?”

 

Erik snorts and lets Charles in before  him. Lorna trails behind him, eyes locked onto David’s.

 

“Who needs a throw-over when you can have throw-up to warm you?”

 

“That’s… disgusting, Charles.”

 

“I know,” he scowls, looking in the mirror with distaste. His baggy eyelids alone must’ve scared the children anyway, smelliness notwithstanding. “I look like the dead.”

 

Erik smiles at him through the mirror, and doesn’t comment. With seamless ease, he situates his daughter on the mat and begins to efficiently change her diaper, mechanically taking off her tights, tickling her on her round belly, laughing at her full diaper with the girl herself, and then wipes her clean before putting a new one underneath her and tying it. He sings to her as well; much too quiet and intimate for Charles to recognise. By the time he’s buckled her shoes back on, Charles is staring with envy, eyes drooping and shirt abhorrently putrid. He looks at David and sighs.

 

“You okay there?”

 

He shakes his head.

 

When Erik walks over to him, he flinches away.

 

“I stink.”

 

“Do you have another shirt?”

 

“… No. I stink at being a _father_ , too.”

 

“Charles – don’t say that. It’s okay, things happen. I have an extra shirt you can borough.”

 

He looks up at the man, meeting his green eyes with a defeated sigh.

 

“That would be great, thank you.”

 

Erik nods and goes to root through his bag, and Charles turns back to his son. He lifts him up to smell his diaper and is _ridiculously_ relieved that he can’t smell any excretions. Raven will have to deal with anything that comes, he thinks contentedly, as he puts his son back down on the counter to mop his face clean. He’d brought an extra shirt for his son, at least, and changes him into it, propping his small hands and head into the holes.   

 

When Erik hands him a t-shirt, Charles’s hope plummets a little. He looks up at Erik, so keen to help and so much better at being a father, and—

 

“I can’t. I can’t wear a t-shirt. I have a class to teach.”

 

“Oh,” Erik muses, looking at Charles searchingly. He scratches his head in thought. “Huh. Well I’m done for the day, so… if you want, you can wear this dress shirt,” he lifts the collar effusively, “and I’ll wear the t-shirt. Would that be okay?”

 

“Um, you sure you won’t mind? This is, entirely inconvenient—”

 

“It’s okay. It’s just a shirt. You can return it another day.”

 

“Thank you. Thank… thank you, so much.”

 

“Charles, you’re really beginning to smell.”

 

“Ah, yes,” he huffs, as he begins to unbutton his shirt. Erik does the same.

 

If Charles isn’t envious of Erik already, he feels worse. He’s so organised, so kind, so good with his daughter – Charles swallows and looks down at his sick-stained navy blue shirt as he folds it and places it into a plastic disposable bag and dumps it into his baby changing bag. He’d liked the shirt.

Standing in his vest, he takes out a baby wipe and smothers it into his neck and shoulder until the smell departs a little. He sneaks a glance at Erik, who changes into the t-shirt and straightens it over his long torso. When he’s given the shirt, he mumbles his thanks gratefully and dresses himself in rapid speed, suddenly self-conscious about his freckles and paleness.

 

He’s happy to note that Erik’s shirt doesn’t smell of expensive perfume – he too smells a little like baby powder. It’s oddly consoling. The way the shirt falls too long on him, isn’t.

 

Charles checks his watch and grabs his son tight as he swings his bag over his shoulder. For good measure, he puts the pacifier back in David’s mouth. Erik’s disapproval of it doesn’t go unnoticed.

 

“Right. I’m off, my class starts in half an hour.”

 

“What about David?” Erik inquires as he takes his daughter by her hand and holds his bag in the other.

 

“I drop him off with my sister until I’m finished.”

 

“Charles, that’s crazy. You drop him off then you go back to teach and then you come back to collect him and then – what, go home from there?”

 

“Yes,” he says, looking down at David and brushing a stray eyelash off his face.

 

“That… that sounds pretty tiring.”

 

“I don’t really have another choice.”

 

Erik nods his head slowly and looks down at his daughter as they walk towards the car park.

 

“Well, this is me,” Charles says, stopping at his red car. “I’ll be off.”

 

Erik looks down at his daughter and points up at Charles.

 

“Say bye to Charles, Lorna.”

 

“BYE!” she says gleefully, flailing her hand in a wave.

 

“And bye to baby.”

 

“Bye bye baby!”

 

“Some of her favourite words,” Erik laughs, looking up at Charles. “Good luck with your class.”

 

Charles smiles and readjusts David against his hip.

 

“Thank you. I’ll be needing it. I’ll see you tomorrow, then?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Thank you for all your help. You’ve been an absolute _life_ saver today.”

 

“No problem. Take care.”

 

“Goodbye Lorna.”

 

Before he can lean down, Erik grips Lorna and lifts her forward for Charles to kiss her on the cheek. He moves back when his forehead brushes Erik’s chin. He clears his throat and takes a step back.

 

“Bye, Erik.”

 

“BYE!”

 

“Ah, Lorna, goodbye to you too, my love.”

 

“Bye, Charles.”

 

“Bye.”

 

This time, it’s not Lorna. Or Erik, or Charles. Both men turn to glance at the little boy as he holds his pacifier out in front of him, a string of his saliva tailing it. He looks positively pleased with himself as his blue eyes dart from Charles’s to Erik’s.

 

“Oh my gosh,” Charles gasps, looking at his son in awe. “That’s his first word. That’s his first word!”

 

“Wow!” Lorna cheers. Erik lifts her again to bring her closer to David, the star of the moment.

 

“Baby said bye, Lorna,” Erik tells her as they stand staring at David in the middle of the car park. Lorna smiles brightly and buries her face into her father’s neck, consumed with happiness.

 

“Bye,” Charles says to David, prompting him to repeat it, and when he looks at Erik, he notes the way his smile has faltered a little. “He barely ever makes noises, other than crying. This is quite remarkable.”

 

Erik nods and walks forward to take David’s other hand. He gives it a shake.

 

“Congratulations for your entree into the world of speech, David,” he says, as Charles laughs and nods his head. “Lorna’s first word had been _gob_. Rather underwhelming.”

 

“Gob?” Charles chuckles, nuzzling his son’s nose and kissing the button-like tip of it. “Well, as exciting as this is, I need to go. But it was wonderful to share this moment with you.”

 

Erik looks down at his feet and nods,  looking determinedly away. Charles tries to catch his eyes again, but they’re ducked too low for him to see them. Something’s just _happened_ , but Charles hardly knows what. Instead of repeating the succession of farewells, he wordlessly goes to strap David into the car seat and drive off to Raven’s.

 

:::

 

Charles is sitting on the bench outside the day care centre when Erik sees him again. His eyes are fixed on the road but unmoving. David sits snug in his lap, his little hands playing with his father’s watch and his mouth sucking noisily on the ever present bright blue pacifier.

 

Erik holds Lorna from running forward and steers her towards the bench. Silently, he seats himself down next to Charles and props Lorna on his knee, where she turns her body to look at David.

 

“Baby,” she points out in a whisper, and Erik nods his head in acknowledgement as he cups the back of her head with his hand. Charles still hasn’t moved, hasn’t noticed the silent communication between their children.

 

“Charles?”

 

The young man jumps a little and looks across to Erik, eyes startled and wet. His thumb wipes at a tear indiscreetly. He doesn’t say anything for a long time, but when he does, Erik’s heart breaks.

 

“I give up, Erik. I give up.”

 

Erik places his hand down on the bench between them and frowns.

 

“What do you mean? How can you give up?”

 

“I just… give up. I can’t do this.”

 

“Did something happen? I didn’t see you inside today.”

 

“I was told to take the day off. I almost broke down today, just before my lecture.”

 

Erik looks straight ahead at the roads in front. Cars stroll past and the wind whips across their hair.

 

“Erik. I’m terrible at this.”

 

“You’re not, Charles. Keep faith in yourself. David needs you.”

 

“You’re so much better at this than I am. I can’t – I can’t _do_ this Erik.”

 

“Of course you can. You can.”

 

“I’m so _tired_. My wife – my wife’s been in a coma ever since she’s given birth. She won’t wake up. She just won’t wake up. She hasn’t even seen David – she doesn’t even know her son’s _called_ David, I don’t even know if she likes the _name_ David—”

 

“Charles,” he interrupts, waiting for him to catch his breath and turn his gaze towards Erik. When he does, Erik shakes his head at him, tells him, “Don’t give up. You’re doing just fine.”

 

He turns away to look down at his child, threading his fingers through the bobbing curls of blonde as they silently listen to the sound of soaring birds and calmly flowing midday traffic. 

 

Quietly, the man says, “ _And_ I’ve run out of bloody baby food.”

 

Erik laughs and bundles Lorna close, resting his cheek against her head. Imitating, she laughs too. Then Charles follows, his laugh warm and deep in his throat.

 

Somehow all three of them are waiting for David to follow on. He doesn’t.

 

Charles rolls his eyes, saying, “Seriously, what were we expecting?” He takes the pacifier out of his mouth with a _pop_ and puts it straight back in when David’s face crinkles up to cry.

 

“There’s a _Mother Mart_ just across the street.”

 

“Really? Where?”

 

“Next to the station.”

 

“Ah. But I left my car at home. We walked.”

 

“I’ll take you. I have to get some baby shampoo anyway.”

 

Charles looks to the side, then reaches his hand out to hold one of Lorna’s pigtails. He gives it a long sniff.

 

“I want what she’s using.”

 

“Alright. I’ll show you.”

 

:::

 

“If it makes you feel any better,” Erik begins, looking up at him through the rear view mirror as he hits the brakes. “At eight months: I was worse than you are.”

 

“I don’t believe it,” Charles says, his upper lip stretching away from his teeth as he snarls.

 

“I was. Ask Lorna.”

 

“Lorna?” he turns to look at the little girl, quiet and angelic as ever, as she looks outside the window. “Do we believe daddy?”

 

“DADDY!”

 

“Of course. She’s adorable, you know.” He reaches out over David’s head to lightly pull Lorna’s cheek. While Erik steps out of the driver’s seat and comes to the back, Charles wonders if he should give in and ask about Lorna’s mother. The question sits heavy and piqued in his head, but he decides to give it a few more moments of acquaintance. It must’ve been very bad, surely, because Lorna is too much of a darling to just _abandon_.

 

Erik isn’t too bad, either.

 

David is extricated from the car seat and Charles gathers him close as Erik takes Lorna out from behind the seat belt and lifts her high in the air before catching her in his arms.

 

“You want to take the car seat? You can put it on the shopping cart.”

 

“It’s alright, I’ll hold him,” Charles smiles as he climbs out of the car and shuts the door. They walk side by side as they enter the cool-aired building, both men clutching their children tight as they look around at all the mother-orientated articles of clothing, all the maternity books and appliances, all the women with their children.

 

Erik catches the expression in his eye and gives him a weak smile. Charles is momentously grateful when Erik doesn’t address it and guides him directly towards the food section.

 

They are, after all, two single fathers in _Mother Mart._

 

“What _were_ we expecting?” he sighs to himself.

 

:::

 

They’re lining up at the checkout when Erik sees the yellow poster.

 

“The Single Fathers’ Support Group.”

 

Charles snorts and continues to stack the tins of baby food in front of the cashier, going back to smiling gracefully at the woman. Erik is thoroughly amused to notice the blush that rises on her cheeks. He rips the poster down loudly.

 

“Should we give it a go? First day’s free.”

 

“Absolutely not.”

 

“Why not.”

 

“They’re always terrible. You, alone, are the best support group there is.”

 

Erik looks up from the paper and stares at Charles’s back as he takes out his wallet to pay the cashier, oblivious to the way she ogles at him appreciatively. He jumps a little as he settles David higher on his jutted hip. Erik looks back down.

 

He scratches his neck.

 

“If you want to go,” Charles continues, taking the bag of baby food and clamping his hand around it. “You can go.”

 

“I’ll only go if you do.”

 

“Fine, we can go.”

 

Erik smiles.

 

“First day’s on Saturday.”

 

“Think I can do that.”

 

Erik is reluctant about asking Charles if he’ll be trekking back home on foot. He already seems withered, carrying the weight of his child on one arm and the bag of his food in the other. As much as that may be the case, Erik’s mainly glad that Charles no longer looks like he did earlier, alone on the bench, despondent over the day’s events. Erik likes to think he’s responsible for at least a _fraction_ of the mood change. He looks on, pleased, as Charles smiles down at David. Whenever he does, Erik wants to do the same. He looks down at Lorna as she holds the paper bag of her shampoo and walks next to him. Sometimes it’s too much for his heart: the fact that her mother had never been able to see this.  She could’ve – but, he sighs – she isn’t. She isn’t here.

 

He squeezes Lorna’s hand.

 

At least _he_ is. And at least he has Charles here, whom he can show just how much it’s _all_ worth it – even when you’re completely alone – when they squeeze your hand back.

:::

 

“I can give you a ride home.”

 

It’s a reasonable request he can’t argue with. He spins around to look at Erik as he strides towards his car and opens it for Lorna. Charles looks down at David and nods his head at him.

 

“Erik’s nice, isn’t he?” he hisses to the little boy, who only blinks up at his father, clueless. The pacifier continues to bob in and out from his mouth. “You’re a bit heavy, you know that. D’you think we could do with the lift?” Charles shrugs when the answer, inevitably, doesn’t come.

 

“Come on, Lorna’s getting sleepy,” Erik calls, inclining his head towards his car. Charles follows him over and stands awkwardly at the door. Erik is quick to take his cue as he takes the bag out of Charles’s hand and places it on the passenger seat. “You can go sit. I’ll strap him in.” Charles nods, soaking up every drop of Erik’s kindness thirstily. The taller man moves closer to him and holds his arms out for David. Charles’s son doesn’t respond, but does cry _blaringly_ when Erik gently seizes him by the waist.

 

“It’s okay, daddy’s here,” Charles soothes him, quickly standing before Erik as he sways him merrily. “No no no, please don’t cry my love, I’m right here.”

 

“Should I put him in or do you want to quiet him first?”

 

“No, strap him in. I’ll go sit by him. Do you have any cheery, jolly kiddy music you could play for the ride?”

 

Erik eyes him incredulously.

 

“Are you kidding? Right there,” he points to Lorna, who waves back enthusiastically, “is Barney’s biggest fan. I have his greatest hits album on a loop.”

 

“Oh gosh, I can’t actually believe how _relieved_ I am to hear that.”

 

“Alright, just sit down and I’ll sort this one out.”

 

“Thank you, Erik,” he says, brushing his hand over the bulge of Erik’s bicep as he holds his son with all the delicacy necessary.

 

Erik straps him in efficiently and Lorna and Charles both turn towards him as he continues to sob aloud. When Erik plays the music, Lorna gasps and claps her hands together, mouth falling open. She shares her excitement with David in gibberish, which the little boy chooses to ignore in favour of crying some more.

 

“Oh gosh, this car sounds like a madhouse,” Charles comments as he drops his head back on the headrest. “I can’t decide what’s worse – this buggering song and Lorna the back-up singer, or my son’s inexplicable agony over—”

 

“What?” Erik glances at him through the mirror when he jerks upright, inhaling sharply.

 

“The pacifier! Where’s the pacifier? The bright blue one with the – the flowers and ponies and—”

 

“Charles, it’s okay, relax. It must be in car park.”

 

“Yes! It must’ve fallen out of his mouth when he cried.”

 

“I’ll go get it.”

 

“But you’ve already turned.”

 

“It’s okay. I’ll turn back.”

 

“I’m just – terrible, I’m so sorry.”

 

“It’s fine,” Erik insists as he carefully reverses the car.

 

“He likes that one.”

 

“And I’ll get it. Okay. I’ll be right back.”

 

He can only sit and watch, a hand locked over his son’s, as Erik runs out of his car to fetch the pacifier, water bottle in hand. He cranes his neck when he sees Erik stand at the previous spot, spinning around in his turtleneck and slacks, trying to locate the darned pacifier. When he finds it, he looks perhaps more pleased than Charles is as he takes it and washes it out with the water from his bottle.

 

Erik comes running back and hands Charles the pacifier before he settles into his car again and asks him for directions to his house.

 

During the length of the car journey, Charles wonders if there’s another way to thank Erik again. He wonders, tries and fails. There isn’t. So when the car comes to a halt outside his apartment, he just reaches over to give Lorna a kiss on each cheek and climbs out of the car with his son. He shuts the door and waves at her before he opens the passenger seat door to collect his shopping.

 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then,” his eyes dart up to Erik’s as he holds the bag tight. David is still softly wailing, _still_ dissatisfied, and his bottom begins to feel full and heavy. “Again – thank you for today. You’ve been wonderful. I’m sure I’d be a wreck without you.”

 

Erik, clearly humbled, looks down at his hands as they drum over the steering wheel.

 

“I’m glad I could help.”

 

With nothing more to say, Charles flashes Erik a small, no doubt tired smile. He steps away and shuts the door then, cautiously looking around for cars before he crosses the road and heads into his building.

 

Distantly, he can hear the sound of Erik singing along with Lorna and Barney in the car. He smiles.  

 

:::

 

Erik spins so his chair faces its back to his office door. He looks outside the window as he places the phone to his ear and waits.

 

Waits.

 

He scoffs when he hears the answering machine intone and cancels the call. He places his hand against his forehead and heaves a long, deep sigh. He thinks of his daughter, thinks of her wide smile, and feels his chest getting lighter.

 

He thinks of Charles a little bit, too. Charles covered in puke, Charles smiling down at his adorable son, Charles who is far too hard on himself. He smiles when he looks at the clock – just an hour until he’ll see all three of them. The tightness in his chest ebbs completely.

 

Erik has, as Charles himself has observed, been doing fine on his own. He’s worked hard – he’s had car park mishaps, he’s been dressed in food, he’s had breakdowns – and now he’s a _damn_ good father. Lorna is perfect in every way and Erik is proud to have watched her grow into the sweet bundle of joy she is now. Proud to have done it on his own. His only regret is that Lorna has never received a mother’s love – but it doesn’t matter – Erik’s love stretches far enough. Surely it does.

 

He whistles to himself – it’s that darned _Barney_ song, too – as he walks out of his office and skips down to his car. He holds his keys in one hand and Lorna’s Indian Doll in the other, ignoring the strange looks he garners, and drives over to the centre to collect his dearest daughter.

 

When he searches around and doesn’t see Charles’s red car parked in the lot, he thinks of the worst. He darts quickly towards the centre, hoping Charles had walked because he wanted to, and not because he’d been sent home again—but mostly, he just wishes Charles is _there._

By the time he gets inside, he’s worked his heart up to a rapid pace that _intensifies_ when he sees Charles laid across the colourful carpet on his stomach, pointing to a piece of paper on which both of their children scribble curlicues.

 

“Try writing _that_ again,” Charles suggests, pointing to a corner of the page with ‘Lorna’ written on it. “That’s your name. Lorna.”

 

“ _Lor_ na,” she repeats,  wildly excited about her name as she scrawls down onto the page with her orange crayon. “Baby!” she exclaims as she points to David.

 

“Baby David, yes,” Charles confirms, turning his head to look at his son. He cards his fingers through the blonde curls and kisses the boy’s little hand as he changes the direction of his crayon. David proceeds to bounce up and down on his bottom and jab the crayon down onto the page. Charles quickly places a bracing hand at his small back. “Baby. What about Daddy? Shall we write Daddy’s name?”

 

Lorna’s ears perk up and she sits back on her heels, looking around the room. Then her eyes land on her father’s victoriously.

 

“Daddy!” she bellows, waving her hand avidly. Erik immediately goes to scoop her up into his arms and blows a loud, messy raspberry on her round cheek. Lorna giggles and kicks her legs about in elation, more so when she’s given her Indian Doll. Erik puts her down and after a beat of thought, goes to grab David. He’s impassive about being lifted into the air and looks alarmed when the strange sound comes out of Erik’s mouth. He doesn’t cry, though, and when Erik puts him back down, he blinks at his father before he reaches for his crayon again. Charles laughs and looks up at Erik as he pushes himself up to sit properly.

 

“I’m not lifting _you,_ ” Erik says, to which Charles gapes, scandalised. He then shuts his mouth and inhales loudly, eyes blown wide, and looks down at Lorna who giggles and makes the same face. David’s long eyelashes flutter as he looks at his father like he’s _insane._

 

Erik drops down on the ground and makes room for Lorna to sit on his lap. He studies the sheet of paper she had scribbled on and grins at his daughter’s attempts at copying her name out. He looks towards Charles.

 

“Went to work today?”

 

“Mmmhmm.”

 

“So are you off to your class now?”

 

“No more classes for today.”

 

“Really? That’s good.”

 

Charles nods.

 

“Somehow managed to keep myself together today,” Charles smiles wryly as he gives his son a different crayon and props a tiny grape inside his mouth. “And the baby food’s been a hit. Thanks.”

 

“It’s okay.”

 

Eventually, Erik thinks, Charles will have to stop thanking Erik at every point. He’s running out of colours to blush and words to respond with.

 

Charles looks down at his fingers sheepishly, as though the exchange has just elicited the same thoughts in him.

 

“I changed Lorna, by the way.”

 

“Hmm?” Erik looks up from over his daughter’s head.

 

“I went to go change David and she began to follow me,” Charles beams, winking down at Lorna. “I thought she just wanted to hang. But I gave her a smell and thought I should change her. I did it exactly the way you did, just in case.”

 

“Oh,” Erik’s brows crease as he looks down at his daughter. He pulls her up and hovers his nose by her back, smelling only baby wipes and fabric softener. He heaves a sigh of relief, sated to hear about Charles’s effort. “My turn to thank you. You didn’t need to do that, but…”

 

“It was alright. She’s such a sweetheart.”

 

“That she is. She wasn’t trouble, was she? I’m surprised she followed you.”

 

“Not at all,” Charles grins, adjusting the belt falling loosely around his hips. Erik tries to look away. “She’s just _fascinated_ with David. Look – when I say baby—”

 

“BABY!”

 

“Yup.”

 

Erik laughs and kisses his daughter square on the cheek. He takes the carton of juice Charles hands him and places it in her mouth, the straw chewed flat. After a few sips, she burps loudly. David’s eyes widen.

 

Charles laughs and reaches for David, taking the crayons out of his hand and bundling him in his arms. Itching to grab, David’s small chubby hand reaches out for his father’s bottom lip and clamps on. Charles winces and whines in pain when David tugs. He retaliates, taking David’s pacifier out of his mouth and hiding it behind his back.

 

Erik is suddenly so glad to have met him.

 

:::

 

He stands up and holds his belt up once more, not missing the way Erik’s eyes watch him critically. He’s _aware_ that he’s rapidly losing weight, but it’s not like he has oodles of time to waste on feeding himself. He just hopes Erik doesn’t make a ridiculous proposition to feed him and inquire about his health.

 

“I hope you’re taking care of yourself,” Erik says, pulling Lorna up with him as he rises to his feet. Charles tips his head back and growls lowly.

 

“I’m _fine_ ,” he deadpans sourly, though he instantly regrets it when he looks up at Erik over David’s curly ringlets. He sighs. “I’m sorry. I – I shouldn’t have snapped like that, it was uncalled for.”

 

Erik raises his eyebrows and lifts his child up, saying, “Look, I know that—”

 

“No, Erik. No, I – it’s my fault. It’s just that it’s important for me to be independent. I don’t want _pity_. I don’t want to be looked at like I can’t look after _myself_ let alone my son.”

 

“And I understand. I don’t have pity to offer you,” Erik shakes his head, coming to stand in front of Charles. “Only friendship. And kindness. I know I would’ve killed for a good meal and a good friend when I was first still through the first year. I’m just doing what I know I would’ve needed. That’s not pitying you.”

 

Charles nods once, worrying the bottom lip that’s now sore. He looks up at the multi-coloured ceiling to stop the tear in his eye from rolling down. David places his hand in his father’s hair and Charles looks down at him, the tear falling free, and takes the chubby hand to his mouth to kiss before wiping it over his tear. He smiles at the boy.

 

“I really could do with a good meal.”

 

Erik is clearly, unable to hold back his smile. He lifts Lorna onto his shoulders to sit and holds her still by her legs. She splutters and giggles as she holds onto his hair like reigns.

 

Charles looks on fondly.

 

“Did you walk over?”

 

He nods in reply as he bends to get his bag.

 

“Alright. You’re coming over for Lorna’s Barney marathon and a good meal.”

 

“To your house?” Charles swallows.

 

Erik spins around from where he’s leading the way, Lorna high above him, and squints his eyes in disbelief.

 

“Yes. Of course.”

 

Charles looks at the triangles and circles on the ground. He looks at his son and bumps their noses together.

 

“Okay.”

 

:::

 

Charles, Erik notes, looks very uncomfortable in his home. He expects his companionship would put him at some ease, but Charles just looks around warily and clutches his child like he’s about to fall. The evening doesn’t get any better from then.

 

Erik’s apartment isn’t a far distance from Charles’s, as he’d pointed out in the noisy car journey, and both come at an equidistance from the day centre. But from the outside alone, Erik had seen how Charles lived in a place far more lavish than Erik. Erik’s place is small as it is, and yet seems even smaller when they step inside and see the clutter of toys dispersed on every square inch of the carpeted floor.

 

He can’t imagine that being the reason Charles looks like he doesn’t want to be here.

 

Lorna skips straight towards the DVD of _Barney & Friends_ laying on the floor and takes it into her hand to wave viciously at Erik.

 

Erik takes off his suit jacket and goes to grant Lorna’s wish, playing the DVD on a high volume and setting her down on the couch. He turns to look at Charles, who still stands by the door with his son’s small arms wrapped around his neck.

 

“I’m going to start cooking dinner. Do you want to go sit and watch with him?”

 

Charles’s head snaps to him and after several long moments of unfilled silence, he nods his head and goes to sit down beside Lorna.

 

He maintains to look up at Charles and the children every other moment – sometimes, as he’s fumbling about in the kitchen, he catches Charles looking back. Sometimes Charles is busy tending to David, and Erik looks openly, acknowledging the way he’s gradually starting to relax. Lorna continues to look transfixed with the television set.

 

Charles takes a feeding bottle out of his bag and lays David down against his chest, supporting him with an arm, as he begins to feed him. Lorna suddenly looks away and twists on the couch to look down at David. She looks up at Charles and smiles sweetly before she puts her small hand into David’s hair and runs her fingers through the fine strands. Charles smiles at Lorna before going back to lock his blue eyes with David’s, who stares back. It’s utterly precious, and Erik almost burns the food watching.

 

:::

 

Lorna’s fed sitting on Erik’s lap, and David takes the high chair. Charles clips his bib around his neck and feeds him with a small spoon that enters his mouth with ridiculous fanfare, making spaceship noises or waving the spoon about like a kite that lands in the cave of David’s wide open mouth.

 

It’s going fine, then. Lorna nods off against her father’s chest and Charles tastes the food, decides Erik is a talented cook, but spends most of him time feeding David.

 

When David coughs and splutters out the mashed peas, the food on Charles’s plate is forgotten as he stands up to take David out of his seat. He mops him up and mollifies him with various rattles and toys, bounces up and down on his heels, feeds him water and shows him Barney’s friends – but nothing works. David wails and cries raucously, his tears falling down his red face in endless streams.

 

Erik, then, looks at him in that way again – that _pitying_ expression, the kind he’d get in public when he _knew_ that people were thinking of him as a bad father, unable to control his child. He looks away immediately, and is thoroughly thankful when Erik makes a move to get up and put Lorna to bed.

 

Away from Erik, holding his child and rocking him in his arms, Charles feels his pulse increase tenfold. He feels like joining David in and yelling, too, with every lungful of air, just as unrelentingly as his son is.

 

He soon begins to cry, too.

 

“Charles?”

 

He quickly turns his back to the sound of Erik padding back into the lounge as he brushes his tears away. He brushes away David’s, too, shushing him. It doesn’t work – _nothing_ is.

 

“Does he need to be changed?”

 

“No,” Charles says, though it sounds more like a whine. He sniffles, then, making it all the more obvious that he’d been crying. “Doesn’t need to be changed, I’ve fed him, I’ve – I’ve – he’s not going to _sleep_ , he won’t play, he won’t take his pacifier. I’m going to go _mad_ Erik, he just won’t be quiet. Don’t _look_ at me like that.” Charles is now crying openly, face crinkling as he holds his child out in front of him. David doesn’t stop, neither does Charles, and now both father and son are in tandem.

 

He feels Erik coming around him and tries to walk away, to hide somewhere he can’t be pitied or criticised for being a bad father, but he’s cornered against the window. He doesn’t know what to do when Erik asks him to gently let go of his son other than to let the other man take David into his arms. Charles covers his face with a hand.

 

“I think he’s hot,” Erik hisses, placing little David down carefully against the window sill and divesting him of the tiny blue sweater vest over his shirt. His skin _had_ been hot…

 

“Oh my gosh,” Charles gasps when Erik takes off his other little shirt and leaves him wearing only two layers. The silence that follows nearly ruins Charles. How could he not have known?

 

“See, it’s okay. He’s fine now.”

 

Erik lifts him up again as he begins to wipe his face with the bib, smoothing a hand over his curly hair before letting them spring free again.

 

“I’m terrible,” Charles says, holding the wall. “I’m absolutely terrible.”

 

“Charles,” Erik sighs, overtly exasperated as he places David against his shoulder and sways from side to side.

 

“Let me – I should,” Charles says, quickly going to take David for himself. He puts him in his sleeping position and looks at the ground, avoiding Erik’s gaze as the other man goes to turn the lights off. David goes to sleep soundly, after that. Charles continues to feel terrible, and cries continuously, silently, as David’s eyes shut and his body goes still in slumber.

 

Charles decides it’s time to leave. He carefully lays David down on the sofa and collects all of their things – the pacifier, the bottle, the clothes and bib, and packs them into his bag. Erik watches from behind him.

 

“You barely even touched your food,” he comments.

 

“Ah – my apologies. I tried it though, it was very good. Thank you.”

 

“Why? You hardly ate it.”

 

“I had to feed David.”

 

“Right, and now he’s asleep. You can eat it now.”

 

“It’s – it’s okay, I’m going home now.”

 

“Already? Charles – when was the last time you even had a sensible meal?”

 

“For God’s sake, Erik,” he shouts, twirling around on his heel to meet Erik’s eye. “I don’t need you – to – to mother me. I’m fine. I have to go home.”

 

“You don’t have to go without eating. I can warm the food for you.”

 

“Again! You’re mothering me. I have a gigantic _stack_ of work to mark and a long day tomorrow. Anytime now David will wake up again because he _cannot_ sleep without his blanket – and I just – I have to leave now before it gets dark.”

 

“Just – fine, whatever. Let me drop you off.”

 

“You can’t, Lorna’s asleep.”

 

“I’ll – she’ll sleep in the back.”

 

“That’s extremely inconvenient. Don’t bother going through the trouble. I’ll take a taxi.”

 

Erik sighs and walks closer to Charles, the lines of jaw and cheekbones outlined by the moon’s dim glow; the rest of his face is a shadow and his stormy grey eyes sit trained on Charles, unflinching.

 

“If you didn’t want to come, you could’ve just said.”

 

Charles scowls, laughing bitterly and mirthlessly.

 

“You didn’t give me a choice.”

 

“Excuse me?”

 

“Forget it.”

 

“Did you just—”

 

“I said forget it. I’m going now,” he says, breezing past Erik with his bag and taking David into his arms. He cradles him carefully against his chest. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he says before leaving, then shuts the door behind him and heads out into the night.

 

He catches a taxi and cries inside it, a hand placed over his eyes.

 

:::

 

Erik is frustrated when he wakes up the next day. He rolls over and sees Lorna, though, and he kisses her forehead with an easy smile. She’d mercifully slept through the night.

 

But Erik hardly had. He reviewed what Charles had said to him and felt hurt about it all over again, all through the night. He knew he shouldn’t have gotten so deeply involved. His attempts to help will only cost him furthermore, he thinks, climbing out of bed and rubbing a hand over his face.

 

Does that mean he’ll stop? Will he stop helping Charles just because he refuses to accept the help, denies the fact that he _needs_ it?

 

Or will he just ignore Charles, who’s still so young himself, and deprive him of the help he knows he can give, just because of Charles’s stubbornness?

 

Still, when he drives to the day care centre and sees the hospital building that stands ahead, just before Charles’s building, he suddenly works out why Charles has been dropping his car off to work and walking.

 

The poor man misses his wife.

 

:::

 

Erik is already there when he arrives. Taking a deep breath, he walks on with David clinging onto him and feet as steady as they can be.

 

He puts David down next to the alphabet blocks and puts the pacifier back inside the mouth. From the periphery of his vision, he can see Erik look up and let go of Lorna as she squirms to crawl over to them. She sits cross legged next to David and smiles wonkily.

 

Charles gulps and presses a kiss down on David’s forehead, his eyes catching onto Erik’s, before he moves to greet Lorna with a kiss to her cheek. He’s still slightly amazed at how Erik manages to do plaits in her hair. At the prompt warmth glowing from his chest he realises – he must speak to him.

 

He walks over to Erik and sits back down on his knees beside him.

 

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry about yesterday.”

 

Erik folds his legs up and locks his hands around them, holding onto a packet of carrot sticks.

 

“I was very unnecessarily rude to you. I don’t know what came over me.”

 

Erik briefly nods.

 

“I envy you, so much. I wish I could be more like you.”

 

Erik shakes his head.

 

“But mainly, I’m sorry. I haven’t an excuse. You’ve been so kind, such help. And I do need you. Yesterday – I think I’ve just been so comfortable with you that I forgot my manners.”

 

Erik presses his lips together and looks away from the children to look towards Charles.

 

“If you’re still willing to help me, I will graciously accept anything and everything. Just please, please don’t leave me alone in this too.”

 

Charles knows it must’ve cut to the core because Erik’s eyes begin to shine, his earlier obstinate expression crumbling into compassion. Then, when Erik smiles and places his hand hard on his shoulder, Charles feels unmitigated relief. He sighs heavily and wipes his eyes, clearing his throat.

 

“Right. Erik – how about you warm me that dinner for tonight?”

 

Erik rolls his eyes and turns his head away, looking back at the children as they silently stare at the line of blocks. Lorna breaks the silence and begins to chatter, pointing at the carpet.

 

“I still have to return your shirt to you, too. So I was hoping to drive over to yours after work – with all the stuff I need to mark for the weekend, and David’s blanket. What do you think? Would that be okay?”

 

After two seconds of thought and two more glances at the children, he says, “Sure.”

 

:::

 

“BABY!”

 

Smiling at the door, they wordlessly swap children: Erik holds his hands out for David and raises him up to the ceiling, Charles bends down to drop his bags and lets Lorna jump into his arms, though she instantly decides she wants to reach out and touch David’s hair.

 

Tonight goes well.

 

Erik heats up yesterday’s food while Charles is playing with the children on the ground. Erik puts a plate of food down on the table and folds his arms as he watches Charles lift his son by the waist and make him stand on his tiny feet, each of his index fingers being held on by David’s full hand as he wobbles.  

 

“What do you think? Think he’ll be tall, or vertically challenged like his father?” Charles smiles, supporting his son with a knee perched behind him. He almost falls back and Erik nearly jumps across the room to catch him, even though Charles is able.

 

“Um… is his mother tall?” he warily asks, rubbing the nape of his neck.

 

Charles looks like he’s searching the floor for something. He blinks his eyes shut, purses his lips and takes a long breath before he changes his expression to something calmer.

 

“Not really. She’s not blonde, either. Don’t know how this happened,” he says, ruffling David’s curly locks. Lowly, he mutters, “Probably grandparents.”

 

“He does look like you though,” Erik says quickly, hand on his waist. “He’s got your features. All of them.”

 

“Yeah?” Charles asks, peering up close at his son. “You poor sod. You’re going to look like your father.”

 

“You’re n—um…” he clears his throat, spins around and looks for Lorna, and hopes Charles hasn’t heard. His skin begins to prickle restlessly. He goes into the bedroom, telling Charles, “Make sure you eat,” before he leaves.

 

When he finds Lorna playing with her doll in his bedroom, he quickly begins to occupy himself with trying to put her to bed.

 

:::

 

Erik cleans the plates in the sink as he walks up and down the length of the lounge with David’s head fallen on his shoulder and his blanket draped over him.

 

“Is he asleep yet?”

 

Erik cranes his neck and shakes his head as he peers at David’s face.

 

“Not yet. Troop on.”

 

Charles huffs and continues to walk up and down, humming a haphazard tune.

 

“Should I turn the light off?”

 

“Please.”

 

“Are you – are you humming the alphabet?”

 

“I’m running out of songs!” he hisses back, pacing across the room tirelessly. That’s when Erik comes over and leans over both of them in the darkness. Charles watches him put a hand over David’s head and sway in time with Charles as he begins to sing a low, melodious lullaby in an unfamiliar language. Charles silently listens as his deep voice carries him into somnolent bliss, and takes his boy to sleep. Charles watches Erik’s lips move as he sings, his hand stroking David’s hair in a persistent, continuous motion. When Erik’s humming recedes to silence, the only thing audible is David’s soft breathing and Charles’s loud heart.

 

He almost doesn’t have the voice to speak, taken aback by such gentleness, but he still manages to whisper,

 

“That was beautiful.”

 

He sees Erik smile gingerly. The same lips descend on David’s head of hair in a quiet kiss. He gives Charles a brief pat on his back before he disappears behind the hallway wall.

 

For reasons unbeknownst to him, he drops a kiss on his son’s head – in exactly the same place where Erik’s lips had been.

 

:::

 

Lorna’s still peacefully asleep when he goes to check up on her, so he changes out of his work clothes to prolong the moment. He doesn’t think he’s ready to go back inside yet.

 

When he does return, he’s glad to see David asleep under his blanket on the couch, and his father sitting on the table behind two towers of worksheets. 

 

Charles is armed with a green pen as he sits turning page after page, scribbling words down and frowning alternatively. After every page, he turns to look at his son before he goes back to marking.

 

“Having fun?” Erik asks, coming into the kitchen to make coffee.

 

“Too much, someone stop me.”

 

“Coffee?”

 

“Yes, please.”

 

Erik prepares two mugs of coffee as he listens to the clock, the sound of the coffee pouring, the rustling of pages as Charles scoffs and sighs.

 

“It’s hilarious when my students write me notes on the side. Listen to this: ‘I’m very sorry about my incompetency in regards to remembering any of the content in the fifth chapter.’ It’s just _funny_. Oh look, here’s another student: ‘Sir, you looked very handsome in the blue shirt you wore today. I’d like to see it dumped on my… bedroom f—ahem, well.”

 

Erik chuckles and places their coffees down on the table as he sits down. When he looks, Charles is bright red and quick to take the coffee and hide his face with it.

 

“So… where do you teach?”

 

“Columbia,” he says, rubbing the tips of his fingers into his forehead.

 

“You must have students older than you,” he says, taking a quiet sip of the coffee. Charles looks at him with wide blown eyes – Erik is suddenly reminded of David.

 

“Some.”

 

“How old are you?”

 

“Twenty-seven.”

 

“No wonder.”

 

“No wonder what?”

 

“Nothing.”

 

“You know, you’ve never told me about Lorna’s mother.”

 

Erik’s head snaps up to look at him. Charles’s cheeks are still flushed with colour, but his equally bright eyes remain daringly kept on Erik.

 

“You never asked.”

 

“I am now.”

 

“She left me two weeks after she gave birth to Lorna.”

 

“Oh. That’s… awful. Were you married to her?”

 

“No. I was going to, when I found out she was carrying my child. We were so happy, and I was so sure I wanted to marry her. Then she gave birth to my princess. And ran.”

 

“You haven’t met her since?”

 

“Nope. I call her every day. She never responds. I don’t even know where she is, where she’s gone.”

 

“Do you know what might have… provoked her?”

 

Erik shakes his head, blinking.

 

“No. Everything was fine. Her parents were a little angry for having a child out of marriage, but I didn’t see her getting worried about it. We were absolutely sure we would get married, after all.” Erik stops and winces slightly at how hoarse his voice is. “But when she was given Lorna in her arms, she looked at her and _panicked_. Like she couldn’t do it. Like she didn’t think I could do it.”

 

“Erik,” Charles whispers, and this is probably the only moment of the night Erik will remember forever, “If she knew what a great father you are, she’d come running back.”

 

:::

 

Charles is staring down affectionately at his son, just about to move to collect him, when Erik says,

 

“Wait.”

 

The younger man turns and finds himself staring straight into Erik’s eyes as they bore closely into his own, the gleam of his green illuminated in the darkness. They’re far too endearing in this silent room, far too intense, far too penetrating.

 

Then Erik lifts his arms and circles them around Charles.

 

At first it’s awkward – a bystander would never call their contact a hug – but slowly, Charles raises his own arms and wraps them around Erik’s torso. He wraps them tight.

 

With gentle force, Charles is pulled closer to Erik’s body, and soon he relaxes enough to place his cheek flat against Erik’s shoulder. The tip of his nose ghosts a touch against Erik’s neck, but Charles can’t see the rise of goosebumps in this darkness.

 

“I needed this,” Charles hisses.

 

“We both did.”

 

In concurrence, they press a squeeze against each other’s bodies. Charles shivers and shuts his eyes, inhaling the scent of lonely fatherhood coming from Erik – the sleepless nights, the baby products, the manic lifestyle  – he knows he wears the exact same fragrance.

 

Charles steps away first, running his hands down Erik’s back. Erik returns the lingering contact.

They pull away and step apart, Erik heaving a sigh that shakes his broad shoulders, and goes to retrieve Charles’s bags for him.

 

Silently – too silently – Charles bends down to hold David, enveloping him with one arm and using the other to adjust the blanket on him. He slowly turns around to Erik, holding out both of his bags. Before Charles can make a move to collect them, Erik stretches the straps over Charles’s shoulder for him.

 

“So I’ll see you tomorrow?”

 

“Tomorrow’s Saturday.”

 

“ _Right_. Do you not remember?”

 

“… Oh God Erik, what am I forgetting?”

 

“You’re breaking my heart. We were _supposed_ to be going to the Single Fathers’ Support Group.”

 

Charles drops his head back, shutting his eyes and laughing with a wide mouth. He wants to hug Erik all over again.

 

“I apologise, my friend. It slipped from my mind. But we _will_ go, I promise. Should I come here tomorrow morning?”

 

“Alright. Come before nine. And park next to my car, just in case the—”

 

“Oh, no – I’ll be walking over. It’s not a long walk.”

 

He’ll probably get time to stop by at the hospital, that way.

 

The mirth in Erik’s eyes dies a little.

 

:::

 

Charles arrives at seven-thirty. Erik doesn’t know why he finds himself least bothered by that – in fact, he’s glad. He’s smiling.

 

After all – he’s been awake since six. All thanks to Lorna. 

 

When the door bell rings, Erik pauses from where he’s sat feeding Lorna her breakfast and gaits towards the door.

 

Then Lorna yells, “BABY! CHAAH!”

 

And he stops.

 

“Did you hear that?!”

 

“Of course I heard that,” Erik says to the door, or rather the man behind it, before going back to take Lorna out of her high-chair and awarding her with a kiss to her cheek. Her pink tongue comes out of her mouth and stretches up to her nose as she tries to lick the speckle of baby food on her upper lip.

 

“Erik? Won’t you let me in?”

 

“Coming.”

 

He walks back over to the door and opens it, greeting Charles with a sunny smile. The one he gets in return, though, is brighter than the sun itself.

 

“Lorna!” Charles calls jovially, stepping inside with a bundle of David.

 

Then they perform their swap: this time Erik grabs David in his other arm – and he knows he’s showing off his strength, but now, he finally has somebody to impress all over again – and balances both children for as long as Charles gasps and quickly takes Lorna. They unite in a series of messy kisses, Charles mostly holding her face and showering kisses all over his daughter’s face. No matter how many times he prompts her to try and repeat her attempt of his name, she downright remains silent. But only until Charles tickles her chin and makes her giggle wildly.

 

Erik looks at David and the little boy stares back. Then he shoots him up in the air, spinning around with the boy held high. He throws him up a few inches and catches him again, making Lorna laugh with abandon, while Charles looks on with his vigilantly concerned face.

 

“I’m not too early, am I? David woke me up fairly early in the morning.”

 

“That’s fine. Lorna was just having breakfast.”

 

“Great.” He puts Lorna down.

 

“Yeah.” He sits David down on the sofa.

 

Charles is first to hug him. This time, Charles’s arms are around his neck, leaving Erik to wrap his arms around the young man’s waist. Wary of how much their proximity has increased today, Erik gives him one tight slow squeeze before letting his arms slip. Charles holds on for a while longer before he does the same. They both take a step back and pull their shirts back in place.

 

He’d needed that quite a lot.

 

“I um, have something for you,” Erik mutters, running a hand over his hair and meeting Charles’s eyes from under his lashes. “Could you just help feed Lorna the rest of her food while I go get it?”

 

“Sure!” Charles says, handing David a rattle from his bag and turning to sit in a chair that faces him. Lorna comes climbing into his lap on demand.

 

Sometimes Erik just likes watching them together. Lorna has hardly ever had a second figure to interact with, and Erik is grateful for Charles. Grateful for how they can help each other.

 

He disappears inside his bedroom and opens up the uppermost drawers, rifling around Lorna’s old things until he finds what he needs.

 

Returning to the kitchen, he sees Charles cuddling Lorna and his steps impede. He doesn’t know what Charles is whispering into her ear, but the tenderness of the moment still manages to clench something tight inside him.

 

He doesn’t want to interrupt, so he stands leaning against the wall and continues to watch until the swell of his heart returns to normal.

 

“Daddy’s taking his time,” Charles says lowly as he lets Lorna climb off of him and run across the floor.

 

“DADDY!” she yells ardently, and Erik takes it as his cue to reappear.

 

“This,” he says, coming to stand before Charles, “is my old baby carrier. I used it for Lorna before she learnt to walk. I want you to have it.”

 

Charles’s eyebrows rise in surprise as he looks down at the carrier, taking it into his hands and turning it over and over.

 

“You mean – this is the thing you strap to your body, right?”

 

“Yes. Since you walk a lot, I thought you might find it useful.”

 

“Oh, definitely. This is actually perfect. Thank you.”

 

“Shall we try it on?”

 

“Please, it looks rather confusing…”

 

Erik purses his lips and opens the straps of the carrier. Charles stands in front of him with open arms and looks up at him expectantly.

 

He takes a step closer to him and swings an arm over his shoulder, wrapping one side of the strap around him. Up close, when he looks down to attach the Velcro around his upper body, he sees a dispersion of freckles across the man’s collarbone, right where his shirt has shifted down. Erik swallows and tries not to breathe out on the man’s skin as he tightens the buckle of one side. He moves to do the same to the other side, strapping the carrier around him as the man watches his son over his shoulder.

 

“Done. Let’s get David.”

 

Erik turns around and ambles towards David, whom he lifts into his arms and turns to face Charles. He’s about to slot his legs inside the carrier, when he feels Charles’s hands cover his.

 

They look up at each other.

 

“Sorry I was going to—”

 

“I thought you’d—”

 

Charles quickly removes his hands and blinks up at Erik. Between them, David thrashes his legs about.

 

“It’s okay, you can hold him.”

 

“No no, you go ahead.”

 

“Okay, um.”

 

“Sorry about that. Didn’t mean to.”

 

Erik doesn’t answer. He places David down into the carrier, carefully adjusting his little socked legs inside each hole. He bobs up and down in it and moves one small hand onto his father’s cheek. Charles’s smile grows broader under his hand.

 

“I quite like this. I can’t believe I didn’t think of getting this before,” he says, bringing his son’s hand down by having it wrapped around his two fingers. “You sure I can have it?”

 

“I don’t need it. It’s all yours,” he tells him as he goes to find Lorna’s shoes. “Shall we go, then?”

 

“Where to?”

 

“Charles, I—”

 

“I’m kidding!” he raises both of his arms, hands spread. “Of course I remember, my friend.”

 

Erik’s glad only Lorna can see him from where he’s got his back turned – at least she already knows how Daddy feels, and smiles, when he’s called a _friend_.  

 

:::

 

“Don’t you think that ought to be enough?” he whispers into his ear.

 

But it’s not, because next the man’s hand comes to rest at the other’s thigh and squeezes. Then their snogging resumes filthily, both men going at each other’s mouths with a feral desperation.

 

“You’d think,” Erik whispers back to Charles as they sit outside the hall, both looking and looking away from the couple in front as they make out.

 

“But there are _children_ here,” Charles replies, his worried face back on. Erik shakes his head appraisingly and places his hand over Lorna’s eyes. “And they’re just shamelessly going at it.”

 

He looks around at the other parents and finds none of them as affected. But neither of them are squeezed in the corner with only the happy couple to face like Charles and Erik are.

 

Lorna begins to quickly lose interest in her doll and David continues to try and work Charles’s shirt buttons out of their holes.

 

“All the people here for the Single Father Support Group meeting, please come through here,” a voice finally calls out from the front of the corridor, causing a loud stir amongst the seated men. Charles sighs loudly and leads the way for Erik.

 

There are about fifteen men filing into the hall; Charles is surprised to notice the kissing couple head inside, too. He shares a look with Erik.

 

“I thought this was _single_ fathers,” Charles says, looking around at all the other parents, who do seem relatively solo. Erik shrugs.

 

“Maybe they still need the support.”

 

“Maybe they’re taking advantage of the free first-trial.”

 

“Maybe they were two single fathers who fell in love.”

 

Then they share another look.

 

:::

 

“Now.”

 

Everybody falls silent.

 

“I want all of you lovely gentlemen to take your beautiful children and sit down on the ground, in your circle.”

 

Some of the men groan and mutter, some submissively comply with their eyes locked onto the dark-skinned man who leads the session, and others curl a confused eyebrow – namely, Charles and Erik curl a confused eyebrow.

 

“Now.”

 

The silence falls again.

 

“I’d like all of the lovely gentlemen _with_ your children today to make them face you.”

 

“Erm, my son’s asleep?” one man pipes up.

 

“That’s – fine. Just. Look at them, that’s the aim. Make sure they’re in your sights.”

 

A few children shout and gabble, their voices echoing in the large auditorium.

 

“Now. Look at your children. If they’re not in front of you, close your eyes and _picture_ your children,” the man says, waving his arms through the air.

 

“My foot’s gone to sleep,” Charles whispers to Erik.

 

“I need to pee,” he whispers back. They both chuckle.

 

“Silence, please. Now. Listen carefully, gentlemen. In this group of individuals, we all have so much in common, so much for each other to identify with! So before we begin introducing ourselves, I’d like to embrace us all as a _unit_. Know this: You are, wonderful. You are, incredible. You are, _extraordinary_.

 

“And you are the true superheroes.”

 

This time Charles snorts. The man’s hands, as they splay through the air, pause as he cracks an eye open. David places his hand over Charles’s mouth.

 

He looks around apologetically. Erik just grins at him, trying not to draw attention to himself.

 

Lorna begins to restlessly squirm in his lap though, and Erik grows just as restless.

In the end of the session, the only thing that’s _supportive_ is Charles, as they burst out of the doors and laugh to the point of imbalance.

 

:::

 

They reach Erik’s house just before the afternoon does and immediately flop onto the couch.

 

The heat in the car had been unbearable, and worse now inside. As Erik goes to open all of the windows, Lorna trails after him, crying her throat raw. She fists her hand in his trousers and tugs, sticking her arms out when Erik looks down at her.

 

“Yes, yes,” he says, lifting her up. She continues to cry, rubbing her hand into her eye excessively.

 

David, who had been taking a nap from the car, wakes up.

 

Charles immediately springs up and cradles him, rocking his little boy back and forth as he cries out of disturbance.

 

Soon, both children are screaming.

 

“Lorna wants to sleep,” Erik says over the racket. “She’d hardly slept last night.”

 

“I think David needs to be changed. May I use your bathroom?”

 

“Of course.”

 

Charles goes to change his child, who cries painfully through it all. Charles shudders through the noise, singing every song he knows and still being out-sung.

Back in the lounge, Erik is still, audibly, having trouble with Lorna. It seems that when they’re united, they’re competing to be louder than the other. Charles is pretty sure his son’s winning, though.

 

Erik looks at Charles and he looks back. This time both their expressions display sympathy for the other man and their noisy, screaming child.

 

Then, Charles catches Erik’s eye again and says,

 

“We should scream.”

 

Erik blinks at him, lost. Charles doesn’t offer an explanation – he just joins in. He mimics David’s cry loudly, hanging his mouth open and letting his head fall back.

 

Even though he looks reluctant, Erik does contribute to the horrendous noise. It’s probably the best worse sound either of them have other heard: four people and their unaddressed pain, ripping out of their throats.

 

:::

 

After swapping children, swapping back, resorting to Barney and singing harmoniously with him, and putting on a manic show that features every single toy in Lorna and David’s possession, the children fall asleep.

 

Erik and Charles are beat. They lay side by side on the carpeted floor, covered in tears and sweat and saliva and toys, looking up at the ceiling.

 

Still huffing and puffing, Erik speaks airily as he turns his mouth so it’s directly next to Charles’s ear,

 

“We are the true superheroes.”

 

Charles splutters and hits Erik lightly on the chest, back arching off the carpet as he laughs. Erik leans up on his elbows to look down at him. He looks for too long and looks too deep, he presumes, because at some point Charles laughs and the following silence becomes too difficult to fill. The house has gone from hellish loud to tormenting silence without their noticing, somehow.

Erik wants to look away from his friend’s smile, but he likes it too much. He hasn’t made many people smile in his life.

 

“I absolutely reek,” Charles casually says, finding an interactive book and opening it.

 

“No no don’t—”

 

The book begins to sing _agonisingly_ loud, flashing happy colours. Charles gasps and shuts it immediately, hiding it under his body and rolling over.

 

“Sorry,” he hisses.

 

“ _You’ll_ be if the kids wake up. Keep that damn book shut.”

 

“Sorry,” he says again, chucking the book away. He turns to look at Erik, pillowing his head with a bent arm. “Are you busy tomorrow?”

 

“Busy with Lorna.”

 

“Ah. Come over to mine for dinner. My sister’s coming around and I’d like you two to meet.”

 

“Oh… okay. I’ll come.”

 

“Good.”

 

“You’re going to cook?”

 

“While Raven watches David. She’s pretty good with children. You know, being one herself.”

 

Erik smiles and looks down at his hands ruefully. He goes back to lay down beside him.

 

“Is she also British?”

 

“No. She’s from here, actually. She’s adopted.”

 

“Ah, I see.”

 

“Though she looks more like David than I do. She’s blonde and cute as a button.”

 

“You _do_ look like David.”

 

“Really? Nobody ever says so.”

 

“He has your mouth and eyes.”

 

“Don’t say nose, it’ll _break_ me. I hate my nose.” He even lifts his hand to hold it.

 

“I think he’ll get your chin.”

 

“Damn it.”

 

“I think he’ll be short, too.”

 

“ _Er_ ik!”

 

“You also share the same… you know… genes.”

 

“Of course I know, I rattle on about them every day. It’s my doctorate.”

 

“Really? That’s pretty good.”

 

“Yeah. That was when I met my wife.”

 

Erik turns his head to look at him. He stares intently at the side of his face, eyes flitting over his profile.

 

“We were both studying in the Biomedical Sciences Department. I chased her for _years_ , you know. She told me, after we married, that she loved having me chase her. Anyway, I was sent abroad to work in a hospital, and would you believe it – she was there too, of all the places. I thought I was going to go mad if I didn’t have her,” he chuckles. “You know how I proposed?”

 

“How.”

 

“I told her to check a slide for me on the microscope for a project we were working on. When she looked into the eyepiece, she was staring at her wedding ring, zoomed out of focus. I asked her what she saw. She said she could see everything she’s ever wished for: a lifetime with me.” He pauses. “And now…”

 

“Hey,” Erik says, placing his hand tentatively over Charles’s. He gives it a small squeeze.

 

“It’s okay,” he hisses, voice teary. “I’m okay. Thank you.”

 

“For what?”

 

“Just… being here.”

 

A shrill cry can then be heard from the bedroom, and Charles instantly jerks up when he recognises the call. His hand slips out from under Erik’s as he bolts for his son.

 

:::

 

As promised, Charles is waiting for him at the front entrance of his building. He’s wearing an apron and a smile.

 

He greets Lorna with his usual flurry of kisses, but turns the tables by pointing to his cheek and puckering his lips. Lorna’s head comes forward hesitantly and her lips fall onto his cheek.

 

Charles leads them upstairs, taking Lorna and seating her on his arm while Erik looks around like a gaping fish.  

 

He takes them into his home and introduces Erik to Raven, who sits on the sofa with David in her lap and the television softly yapping on in front of them. Raven shakes Lorna’s hand and fusses over her hair as Charles sets the table. Erik converses sedately with Raven as he spends a good few minutes tickling David and teasing him with the pacifier as he takes it in and out of his mouth.

 

Just as Charles is mixing David’s food with a bright pink spoon, Raven sneaks up next to him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

 

“I’m so glad you’ve made a friend,” she whispers, patting him twice. She easily takes the food bowl out of his hands and sits down at the table. Charles smiles to himself.

 

They’re sitting at the table when Raven finally speaks about something that has nothing to do with the men and their children and their routines and how many hours of sleep they’ve had.

 

“So I was talking to somebody at work yesterday,” she begins, wiping David’s mouth clean as she tries to get another spoonful of food passed his determinedly closed lips.

 

Charles looks up from his dinner plate. Lorna is almost asleep in her father’s arms as she looks into space with half-open eyes, a piece of orange held loosely between her fingers. Some of the juice begins to drop on Erik’s trousers, but he doesn’t seem to notice.

 

“Do you remember Lilandra? From my birthday party last year? Yeah, her.”

 

“Of course, how is she doing?” he asks half-heartedly.

 

“Very good. She stopped by for a haircut. She asked about you and Gabrielle.”

 

“Ah.” His fork drops down on his plate. Erik’s eyes curiously dart to him.

 

“I told her about Gabrielle, and how you’re doing fine with David. She says she wants to see you.”

 

“Tell her I’m busy.”

 

“I – I’ve told her you’ll call. That I’ll give you her number.”

 

“There was no need for that. You can stop feeding David, it’s time for him to change and go to sleep.”

 

“But Charles, I think you should call her.”

 

“Why should I call her?”

 

“She likes you.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“I think you should… you know—”

 

“Raven I don’t like where this is going. Just spit it out.”

 

She drops David’s feeding spoon and looks down at the table, not meeting Charles’s eyes.

 

“The doctors _said_ that there’s a slim chance of Gabrielle waking up.”

 

“What? So I should give up hope and start calling up random women?”

 

“She’s not random, she’s my friend, and she’d be very good for you and David.”

 

“Raven! I’m still married to Gabrielle – how – how can you even _say_ something like that?!”

 

“Gabrielle will most likely _never_ wake up and David needs a mother. That’s all I’m saying!”

 

Charles slams a fist onto the dining table as he stands.

 

“She’s my _wife_! And she _will_ wake up!”

 

“But the doctors said—”

 

“I don’t give a damn! I’m not interested in anyone else, Raven, for God’s sake. She’s going to wake up and we’ll be happy again; everything will be perfect again.”

 

“She won’t wake up, Charles! And I can’t stand to see you like this anymore. You know how many times I’ve seen you sitting in a corner holding David and _crying_?! How many times I’ve seen you wrap his diaper the wrong way, put the wrong shoe on the wrong foot, put bloody _aluminium_ foil in the microwave while making him food?”

 

“Raven – that’s enough—”

 

“If Gabrielle dies, you’ll have nobody, David will have nobody—”

 

“ _Raven_!” he shouts, dangerously loud, making David screech with tears and the other adults flinch. Riled, he storms across the table and takes his son of the chair, ignoring Raven’s protests, and hugs him to his chest. He darts out of the kitchen and heads straight for the bedroom, where he slams the door shut.

 

:::

 

Erik looks at his child in horror. His relief at seeing his daughter still fast asleep is indescribable. Then he swallows and looks at Raven.

 

“Raven…”

 

“Please talk to him. He won’t listen to me,” she croaks, pushing her chair back to stand. When she leaves, she shuts the door quietly.

 

Erik sets Lorna down on a cushion and takes a deep breath, pinching his nose, before he heads off in search for Charles.

 

He thinks about knocking on the closed door, but decides against it. He places his ear against the door and hears nothing, not even David crying. After a few passing moments, he hears Charles cry. He opens the door.

 

The room he enters is large and pristinely white, everywhere from the drapes to the décor. Charles is laying inside his bed with David sleeping inert on his bare chest. Charles’s blue eyes and cheeks are both wet and spilling tears. His lower lip is curled into his mouth. His face remains unchanged as Erik walks towards him and sits down on the other side of the bed. Charles doesn’t use the entire space of the bed – only half, as though he’s hopeful.

 

“Charles,” he says, placing his hand between them on the bed. He lowers his head as he moves nearer to the father and son, “Please don’t cry.”

 

Inhaling with a loud sniff, Charles’s Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows.

 

“Am I really a bad dad?” he asks, wet eyes searching Erik’s face. His voice sounds so thin and frail, more vulnerable than the baby on his chest.

 

“No,” Erik decisively shakes his head, “Absolutely not.”

 

“Then why would she say those things?”

 

“I’m sure she doesn’t mean it. She’s just looking out for you. She wants you to be happy.”

 

“I don’t know how I feel about being alone for the rest of my life.”

 

Erik contemplates saying the first thing that enters his mind. He intends to keep it to himself, to say nothing but—

 

“I’m not stupid, I know there’s a chance Gabby won’t wake up. I do know that. But I don’t want anyone else, Erik. I don’t want to do that to David. I don’t want to remarry. Have another woman in my life.” Charles wets his lips and expels a shaky breath that fans his son’s hair. “Would you, Erik? Would you do that for Lorna?”

 

His voice comes out dry, “I’d do anything for Lorna. Anything for her benefit. I hardly see it as convenient to introduce her to someone new when they could leave her too. More than me she’d be devastated if somebody walked into her life and walked back out.”

 

Charles turns to look at him. Erik stares back, meeting his eyes as the younger man says, “And what if you fall in love again?”

 

“What makes you think I’ll fall in love again?”

 

“You always could, if you’re not careful.”

 

“I’ll just have to be more careful then, won’t I?”

 

Charles’s bottom lip comes out of his mouth again and stretches in a lazy smile. His eyes are narrow slits when his grin turns into a long yawn.

 

“There’s a spare bedroom across the hall. You can stay there for the night,” he breathes. “Please.”

 

Erik folds his hands in his lap and nods his head.  

 

“I’m sorry you had to be there to hear all of that. Lorna didn’t wake up, did she?”

 

“No. She’s still asleep.”

 

He looks down at David, whose small hand rests on Charles’s sternum in a balled fist. He drops his head low, slowly at first, waiting for a sign to stop, then kisses David’s soft cheek. He raises his eyes slowly to look at Charles, still hovering over his chest. He looks at his face, still damp from the tears not yet swept. Erik brings his thumb over his cheek and brushes away the wetness in a few long strokes over his smooth skin. Charles shuts his eyes. Erik is wearing all of the tears on his finger by the time he lifts his hand away.

 

“I’ll see you in the morning.”

 

Charles opens his eyes. He gives an elusive nod.

 

“You won’t be alone, Charles. I’m here. You have me.”

 

Charles’s eyebrows crinkle – in _that_ way, the way that Lorna does before she cries, the way David does sometimes in front of his father – and Erik is too used to kissing away the frown lines with his lips. He sighs. He wonders if Charles’s face is anywhere for his lips to be.

 

He sits up and off the bed, returning Charles’s unmoving gaze. Then he walks backwards until he’s out in the hallway and shuts the door between them.

 

:::

 

Charles wakes to the distant sound of a little girl giggling. The first thing he does is turn to his side and spread his hands out to seek his son, and when he feels his empty bed, his eyes snap open in panic. He jolts out of the covers and rushes frantically for the door, swinging it open and running across the hallway.

 

Erik is there. As is Lorna, sitting on the sofa with David sandwiched between herself and the armrest. David and Lorna are both looking up at Erik as he spins around the room with a scarlet red blanket falling off his shoulders like a cape. He has a steel colander upside down over his head. Lorna stares up like her father is a marvel, hands posed over her face, while David looks up in rapt concentration.

 

“ERIK?”

 

The man swiftly turns around, cape swaying, and hastily removes the colander off his face as he looks at Charles.

 

“Charles. You’re awake.”

 

“And you’re a lunatic.”

 

“Just… entertaining. Sorry I—”

 

Charles coughs out a noise of dismissal and ambles straight towards his son, whose warm weight he bares in his arms. He kisses his head repeatedly, his heart finally calming down. He buries his face in his son’s hair and inhales.

 

When he looks up, Erik is looking at him intently. He quickly takes the blanket off his shoulders as Lorna makes a small disappointed sound.

 

“Why did you take David?” he hisses, keeping his eyes on the ground. Erik nervously swallows before he answers.

 

“He was crying. Didn’t want to wake you up. So I brought him here.”

 

“Oh, so you’re _David’s_ mother now?”

 

Erik’s eyes widen in disbelief. Charles can almost _hear_ him fuming as his hand closes into a fist around the blanket. Slowly, he moves his head up and down as he puts the blanket in the colander and chucks it to the side. Charles thinks, _fine_ , and props David back down in his place, taking his hand carefully out of his hair. Erik’s jaw twitches.

 

“He began to cry and I didn’t want it to disturb you—”

 

“That’s entirely _why_ he cries—!”

 

“But you’d had a rough night and I didn’t want you to wake up when I already _had_ and could control him and—”

 

“What? You don’t think I can? Is that what you’re trying to say? That you’re better at handling _my son_?!”

 

“Charles, no!”

 

“You are! You’re trying to prove a point, aren’t you? Just because of Lorna’s mother, you’re trying to prove that you’re better at this than me so I can feel _horrible_ and you can feel like the _better_ man!”

 

Then Erik’s hand strikes across Charles’s face.

 

Lorna cries out at the sound.

 

Charles swallows dryly and blinks at the ground, where he’s been turned to face. He lets the sting settle for a while, lets it fade, lets the tear in his eye fall to the floor. His flesh has turned pink, right down to his exposed navel.

 

When he looks up at Erik, he looks like he’s the one that’s been slapped. He looks broken, completely _shattered_ with grief.

 

“Charles,” he mouths, stepping forward and seizing him forcefully by his arms. Charles is suddenly crushed against the other man’s body and they’re both panting, frightened. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

 

“It’s okay,” he rasps, fingers clutching onto Erik’s shirt. “I needed that.”

 

“No – _no_. You’re completely wrong, Charles, but I shouldn’t have done that. I’m _so_ sorry,” he cries, moving his face down to touch his cheek against Charles’s sore one. He emits heat instantly, the red colour palpable on his pale skin, and Erik’s head moves further until his lips are kissing over the heated area excessively. He kisses and kisses, almost the way he does Lorna when she’d bang her head on the table or get a sore thumb, and it begins to all make Charles’s head spin. Erik chokes out a cry against Charles’s naked neck and groggily, says, “He just – started crying, and you wouldn’t wake up. Charles you were so calm in your sleep, how could I wake you when I already was? I wanted you to sleep. You work so hard, Charles. I wanted you to rest, for once. And then Lorna started to call for David so I brought him to her, to quiet him so you can continue to sleep. Charles I’m so sorry you got scared, I just – thought you knew I was still here, looking out for you and David—”

 

“I don’t know, I… I forgot you were still here. I thought he’d gone somewhere and I almost _died_.”

 

“Oh, Charles, I told you _I’m here,_ didn’t I? Did you think I was going to just leave you after telling you that you won’t be alone?” He heaves a long, shuddering sigh over Charles’s skin, clutching him even more tight than before, where possible. “You won’t, Charles, you won’t ever be alone again.”

 

Charles releases a softer sigh, one that soon transforms into a hiccupped laugh.

 

“At least you’re a man of your words. I told you I’d accept your help graciously, and yet I yelled at you for doing something so thoughtful.”

 

“It’s fine, Charles. Just please, please forgive me for hurting you. And please believe that you’re a wonderful father. You truly are.”

 

After a pause of sparsely filled silence, Erik says,

 

“You’re wonderful. You’re incredible. You’re extraordinary.”

 

“Oh my God,” Charles gasps, before he throws his head back and chortles with laughter. “I can’t believe you – you ridiculous man. May I ask what you were doing in front of my child, by the way? What in the seven heavens was that?”

 

“I was getting ready for work,” he says casually, with a shrug.

 

Then they both laugh, Lorna joining in, before they realise that they actually really should get ready for work.

 

:::

 

Erik can’t stop smiling for the rest of that day. Or the next, or the one after.

 

Over the days, Erik learns all about Charles’s work schedule, and together, they spend most of their evenings holding David up on his feet, getting him to stand and walk. If they’re not busy keeping David’s chubby legs up, they’re helping Lorna say more words and names, learn how to count to ten and recite the alphabet. Then, by most nights, they’re singing Barney songs in unison to make the children sleep. Charles is always reluctant to join in, but once Erik belts out the jolly tune like it’s normal to be a middle aged man singing about cleaning up toys, Charles – well – can _never_ resist. Besides – Erik has seen it always work as a charm on the children, making them doze right off to their dreams, to which the older men tiredly follow.

 

Soon Charles is leaving David with Erik instead of Raven, simply because he ends up going to his apartment _anyway_ after work. It just seems more logical for Erik to take both children home so Charles doesn’t have to make superfluous trips. After all, David and Erik _and_ Lorna get along very well. But when Charles is there too, and they’re all spread out in the lounge comfortably, the moments that pass then are the ones that are the fondest to Erik. The ones that make Erik smile through his sleep, through his rousing in the morning, and all through work – every day.

 

Sometimes Charles spends the night over, and sometimes Erik finds himself waking up on Charles’s humongous couch, the other man himself sleeping on the carpet over a stuffed toy, with David plastered to his chest. He remembers all the times he’s had to take Charles’s pen out of his stationary hand so he doesn’t colour himself in his sleep, after he’d nodded off whilst simultaneously marking and putting David to sleep.

 

The times he wakes up on the couch – or the ground – are always painful, but pleasant. Those are the times he wakes up with back ache and only a wink of sleep. They are also the times he gets to see Charles attend to David, ripped out of his sleep. The little boy would break out into wails and sobs in the early morning and Charles would rouse instantly, standing up to coo him tenderly against his shoulder. Sometimes he holds him in both arms like a new born and cradles him, humming one of the Yiddish lullabies Erik sings to Lorna. Erik pretends not to notice, pretends he’s fast asleep, but he too is a father after all. He’s always awake to hear the way Charles puts David back to sleep, swinging him in his arms or feeding him warm milk as he tries to fight back sleep himself. It’s always a beautiful picture in the light blue light, Charles and his son, their bodies a simple silhouette against the window. Erik never minds being disturbed of his sleep to see something so picturesque.

 

He’s stopped crying, and Erik is unspeakably proud. When David’s tears are a conundrum and his yells inexplicable, Charles doesn’t give up and cry. He ploughs on with him, doing his utmost to placate his child. Erik knows that if Charles’s wife was here, right where Erik is, watching on: she’d be just as proud. But she isn’t. She isn’t, and although it’s not at all her doing, Erik is the one that’s here – feeling almost like he’s taking her place. They see each other every day, for most hours – night time encompassed. Even for the frequent trip to _Mother Mart_ they rely on the other’s presence, the other’s opinion, and for every time Erik is adamant to wheel Charles away from the till with the admiring checkout woman.

 

They mutually decide to scratch the idea of going to the Support Group sessions again, so they spend their Saturday’s at home, focusing more on their children than themselves. Now that Erik and Charles have settled into a comfortable friendship, they no longer need to feel guilty about spending more time arguing as opposed to fussing over their children. It’s the children that matter.

 

After all, if it wasn’t for Lorna, he’d never have even had the joy of meeting David.

 

And Charles, of course. He isn’t so bad, either.

 

—Erik thinks, with a smile on his face.

 

:::

 

“David turns nine months tomorrow,” Charles had said to Erik yesterday, which is why they’re now here, staring at each other across the length of a child-friendly swimming pool.

 

Charles knows he looks flustered as he sits at the edge of the swimming pool, trying to catch his breath.

 

“Should I do it for you?” Erik calls as he puts Lorna down, clad in nothing but green swimming trunks. Lorna plays with the frills of her swimming costume.

 

“No, I think I can do it.”

 

He looks down at David sitting on his thigh and sighs, before inhaling a long _whoosh_ of breath and blowing into the arm bands again. With cheeks blown wide and most of his skin on display and his paleness darkening to a vivid pink, he feels extremely aware of himself. He takes the plastic tube out of his mouth and decides he’d let Erik look unattractive instead, blowing into the arm band.

 

But he hardly ever does.

Erik slips into the water, taking Lorna down with him and propping her inside a circular shark float, her little biceps already covered with her large pink arm bands. Erik splashes some water on her and ties her hair up in a messy bun while she paddles about in the lukewarm water.

 

Erik turns his attention to him and doesn’t miss a beat; he walks straight over to Charles across the tiled bottom of the shallow pool and raises his eyebrows questioningly at the deflated arm band in Charles’s hand. He hands it to him without comment and watches Erik exhale long, powerful breaths into the arm bands, inflating them entirely. Charles holds out David’s arms and lets Erik put them onto each. David sits afloat a circular red octopus.

 

Then Charles joins them, lowering his body in slowly and suspending his weight in the open water before his feet touch the bottom. The water comes up to his waist and bathes him warmly, as does the equally warm smile on Erik’s face. Charles reaches for his son, who begins to look anxious about his free mobility, and begins to swim the length of the pool with him.

 

They try and make Lorna and David race, but the littler one hardly gets the hang of it, only hovering in the same spot as he kicks his legs. Lorna on the other hand, after learning the way her father does it, takes great pleasure in splashing water over both Charles and Erik. On first try, it’s quickly learnt that David is indifferent to being splashed with water. Charles simply moves in to cuddle him. He can almost feel Erik’s eyes on his back when he turns, and in the vainest hope, he finds himself wishing he doesn’t look too freckled or too pale or too bony.

 

Lorna paddles over to David and yells excitedly at him. Erik comes over and stands alarmingly close to Charles, though his eyes are trained on the children. Charles keeps a hand on David’s float and pulls him in between them. Erik looks down at the boy theatrically and takes a small handful of water, pouring it over his hair. This, David enjoys. Lorna tries to perform the same action, but in the end, Erik does it for her. Like the ardent father he is, he pulls his daughter close and plants a noisy, wet kiss on her cheek which she giggles into. He turns to David next and plants a kiss similar in enthusiasm. Unthinking – clearly, because Charles isn’t a child – Erik plants an impulsive kiss on Charles’s cheek.

 

Then he freezes. They both do.

 

Lorna kicks her legs excitedly.

 

Erik moves his mouth far away and blushes, apologetically. Charles himself is redder than the octopus David sits in. He brushes his hand over his cheek. He doesn’t mean to look like he’s wiping a stain, yet when Erik’s green-blue eyes flit back up to him, he’s managed to come off as resembling _mortified_.

 

“Sorry,” Erik whispers, looking towards his elevated daughter. “That was very embarrassing.”

 

Charles decides to say nothing. Erik slowly descends himself into the water until his body completely disappears. Lorna shrieks.

 

“Erik,” Charles says, exasperatedly fishing for him under the surface of the water with one arm, “You’re scaring Lorna. Just come out.”

 

He surfaces with a splash to Lorna’s face and she very nearly cries with happiness.

 

:::

 

Still recovering from the shame of earlier, Erik hasn’t managed to look back at Charles yet. He doesn’t know if he can, knowing that he’s just pressed his mouth to his hot skin more than once now, both times due to his own stupidity. Although this time, he hadn’t been trying to soothe a burn, he was simply too at ease with the situation, _his_ situation, and the domesticity of it all – that he’d completely forgotten that kissing Charles is highly inappropriate. Is, because he still considers himself married, and is probably thinking Erik is being opportunistic.

 

With so much love to give, so much already given and misplaced and unrequited – he wonders if he’s finally beginning to lose his mind and as a result, is doing undignified things to his only friend to make up for it all.

 

Yet Charles, when he turns around to brave a glimpse his way, is looking at his son wistfully, as though affected by something completely different.

 

“I still can’t believe it’s been nine months,” Charles says, tone low and pensive, when Erik comes over to him. He flattens down David’s hair, making it sit atop the curve of his head and tucking it behind his ears. Like this, his resemblance to Charles is unmistakeably obvious. Eyes like those, electrifying like the water they’re in, can only belong to this father and his son.

 

Thinking over Charles’s words, he wonders if he’s addressing David’s growth or his wife’s condition. Erik decides that the ambiguity is preferable to knowing the distinction.

 

The wish to know more vanishes and in its stead he says, “Look at how well you’ve been doing.” He inclines his head towards David. “Nine months is a long time. And look at what you’ve done. How you’ve coped. It’s commendable. I’m proud of you.”

 

Charles’s eyes roam from David to Lorna.

 

“You haven’t done so bad yourself. And for over a year. Does anybody ever tell you, Erik, that you’re inspirational?”

 

Erik thinks that responding to Charles’s question with a shake of his head would be unbecoming, so would saying, _you make me feel that way._

 

The only thing he can think of doing then – to hide his blush and to dispel the glassiness in Charles’s eyes – is whispering,

 

“I can give you something you need.”

 

He barely gets the sentence out before Charles takes the hint and takes him in his arms, splashing through the water that pools between them. Erik laughs lowly and hugs him back – this time with no squeezing necessary, bare bodied as they are. He thinks maybe the warmth of Charles’s body is _exactly_ what he needs, the comfort of his hold, and hopes that in return he’s giving something back to Charles that he craves just as much.

 

“Erik?”

 

“Yes, Charles.”

 

“I haven’t visited my wife at the hospital in over a week.”

 

“Why haven’t you?”

 

“For some reason I’ve been unwilling. Seeing her motionless, pale body no longer gives me the motivation it used to. It just makes me feel hopeless.”

 

Erik’s splayed out hand rubs a smooth circle against the other man’s back. He feels, under his arms, his muscles tense. He looks around curiously for David and Lorna before he speaks.

 

“I haven’t called in two weeks. I haven’t tried and found about Lorna’s mother in two weeks. I don’t think I will again.”

 

“Really?”

 

“Yes. I’ve tried as best as I can to reunite us and keep our family together. But if she’s not interested… if she’s not making the effort – then I can’t force her into it, can I? She obviously wants nothing to do with her own child. And she doesn’t want to confront her problem with me. So I don’t see why I should be the one to keep reaching out for something that’s not there.”

 

Very very quietly, as if to make sure not even Erik hears it, close as he is, Charles whispers out, “And it took you a year and a half to figure that out?”

 

Erik would’ve graced the question with its truthful answer if it isn’t for the entrance doors bursting open and letting through a family of four children and two adults in a roar of laughter and excitement. They flinch away from each other and move towards their children, gathering them up and deciding it’s time to go.

 

Something is most definitely, undoubtedly _happening_.

 

:::

 

The first thing that Erik gives him is a fright in the middle of the night.

 

“What the _bloody hell_ are you doing?”

 

“I’m taking D— oh shit, Charles, what happened to David?!”

 

“That’s a _teddy bear_ , Erik!”

 

“Oh! _Oh_ , thank f—dear God, that scared me.”

 

“You? You’re the one who comes in the dark and feels _me_ up for a darn teddy bear that you claim is my _son_.”

 

“But it looks like David from over _there_. I thought you went to sleep with him again.”

 

“Were you going to steal my son?”

 

“I was going to lay him down with Lorna.”

 

“I’ve put him in the crib.”

 

“Oh. I didn’t see it. Sorry about that.”

 

“Why are you still awake?”

 

“Can’t sleep.”

 

“Well I can.”

 

“Lorna’s taken up all the bed. If I move her the whole neighbourhood will know.”

 

“There’s a spare room.”

 

“What about you?”

 

“I’m here. I was sleeping just fine, too.”

 

“You go sleep in the spare room. I’ll sleep here.”

 

“My house. My couch. I want to sleep on it.”

 

“At least get changed.”

 

“My… night clothes are in the wash. David squirted while I was changing him. Terribly. He’s a bundle of unmitigated joy, he is. I don’t know why he has to pee _after_ I’ve taken the bloody nappy off.”

 

“ _Nappy_. Really, Charles.”

 

“What.”

 

“I have a change of clothes. You can wear one of my shirts.”

 

“I’m fine. I want to go to sleep. It’s the last day of semester. I get a few days off. I need to be able to conquer this day evenly.”

 

“You’re not going to sleep sitting down, are you.”

 

“I can show you I can.”

 

“Fine. So will I.”

 

“Erik you’re sitting on David.”

 

“You mean the teddy bear.”

 

“Erik?”

 

“Charles.”

 

“I bet twenty dollars David will wake up first.”

 

“Nope.”

 

“Done.”

 

The other thing Erik gives Charles is a giant box which turns out to be holding an advanced, state of the art, baby walker.

 

First Lorna demonstrates, walking up and down the length of the living room, before David is placed on. He does well on it, and Charles makes a discovery: saying thank you has now lost its meaning, and smiling warmly at him has now become the new way to express his gratitude. Charles, Erik and Lorna all applaud David’s performance with the walker, making David raise his tiny eyebrows and stare back at all the cheer. Then Lorna stands up and runs up to give him a hug, and Charles exchanges a look with Erik before rushing to go unearth his cell phone from wherever it hides and taking numerous pictures of it, Lorna frozen to hold her pose.

 

Then, Erik hands him a key.

 

“It’s a spare key.”

 

And when Charles goes to hug Erik, he thinks that maybe _this_ interaction has also taken up a whole new meaning.

 

Sometimes it’s not just needed, it’s wanted. Desperately.

 

:::

 

Erik comes to stand next to Charles on the other side of the kitchen island.

 

“Okay. I’ll show you.”

 

He laces his fingers through his daughter’s thick brown hair and undoes the knotted mess Charles had made of it, helplessly sighing and calling it, “That plait—thing you do!”

 

He knocks his elbow with Charles’s to get his attention and clears this throat as he instructs.

 

“First you partition the hair into three bunches of strands, like this. Then you keep moving the outer bunch into the middle. The left. The right. Like that. Do you get it?”

 

“Yup.”

 

“Okay. Do the other side.”

 

“So I was thinking—”

 

“No – Charles, you’re doing it wrong. Put _that_ one in the centre of the other two. —Yes, there we go. Better.”

 

“Right. So as I was saying. We should go to the park.”

 

Erik ties the bottom of her pigtail with a quaint red ribbon and hands Charles the pink one.

 

“Is this a date or a play date?” he mutters.

 

“Erik.”

 

“What.”

 

He lowers his voice, speaking behind a hand, “Not in front of the _children_.” He emphatically eyes the two obliviously quiet kids in the kitchen.

 

“Ah. Okay. Sorry. Not until they’re twenty-nine.”

 

“Harsh.”

 

“Have to be.”

 

“I don’t disagree. I’d rick it up to thirty-one.”

 

“… Says the one who’s twenty- _seven_.”

 

Charles laughs and whacks him on the shoulder.

He gives him the spare key to his own house after they depart for work from the day centre.

 

Erik takes it and puts it in his breast pocket, right where his printed photograph of Lorna and David is and where something _else_ sits, pounding happily.

 

:::

 

Tired as they are – Charles having to call Erik to tell him he’s going to be late from work – they go to the park, where Charles meets Erik and the kids directly.

 

They go on the swings for far too long, pleased at how few children have decided to come to the park at the time of beautiful orange sunset and cool breeze, and in their joy, they play too much. They swing too much and too high, they spin too much and too fast, and they slide down every surface until their bottoms are sore, only to do it again. Charles is tired of all the fun he’s having, and yet, it doesn’t dissuade him from going on the jungle gym again. David’s laughter is infectious, when Charles sits him on his lap and goes on one of the springy unicorns or shoots down a slide.

 

“I never had this much fun when I was a child,” he pants.

 

“Me neither. We should do this more often,” Erik suggests, he too catching his breath after chasing Lorna around the park and lifting her up into the air at every find.

 

They both sit down on the concrete side by side as they watch Lorna attempt to tackle the climbing frame. On habit, Charles raises David on his feet in front of them, holding him by his shoulders. He readily stands up today, looking up at Lorna with deep interest.

 

Then Erik suggests,

 

“Let go.”

 

“What?”

 

“Let go of his shoulders. See if he’s standing.”

 

“At home, not here. He’s not steady enough. What if he falls over?”

 

“I’ll catch him. You stay here and I’ll—” Erik shifts to David’s side. “—Look, I think he’s trying to get to Lorna. He’s going to try and walk, I think.”

 

And with all the excitement of being in the outdoors and seeing Lorna attempting to climb the frame, David holds himself up still when Erik holds Charles’s wrists and guides them away.

 

“… Okay, don’t startle him,” Erik hisses as he readies his hands around David. David lifts a foot, wobbles, leans forward and puts out another step before he drops gracefully into Erik and Charles’s arms as they tangle together.

 

Charles smiles and laughs and the hug they share that day, after the drowsy kids are seated in the car, is perhaps the one in which each of them latch onto each other the tightest.

 

As they carry their sleepy children into Charles’s house, he whispers, “Use your key,” even though his own is in reach. Erik does, and they share an affectionate smile before he lets them inside.

 

:::

 

Erik remembers going home that night with unfathomable amounts of happiness blooming through his chest, and with just as much fatigue crawling through his legs.

 

He remembers Charles saying they should put both children in the master bedroom, where Lorna can take the entire bed and David can take the crib. He also remembers Charles marking the calendar, scribbling ‘DAVID’S FIRST STEPS!’ on today’s date.

 

He vaguely remembers collapsing onto a fluffy, warm bed and letting out a groan of relief at being able to cosily lay down.

 

At some point during the morning, his comfort engulfs him and leaves him slightly mindless.

 

Erik rolls over and smells, on first inhale, baby lotion. Smiling, he reaches his hand out and leaves it over a patch of soft, warm skin.

 

“Sweetheart,” he sings to his daughter, stretching forward to press a kiss down on that patch of skin in the dark.

 

Of course, Lorna is in the master bedroom. With David. And Erik is in the spare room.

 

So when he slowly retracts his hand and sets it on the pillow, and weakly gets his throat to swallow, and hesitantly blinks an eye open, he sees big blue ones looking right back at him.

 

Curled next to his face, Charles’s hand moves to brush its fingertips over his neck. His _neck_.

 

Erik’s mouth parts to apologise, but a sound doesn’t make it through. Charles looks at his wordless lips through his thick lashes, waiting. But whether or not he’s waiting for words is difficult to determine.

Erik moves his hand out across the warm surface of the bed and finds the hot flesh of Charles’s hand. He snakes his hand up the length of his palm until their fingers align and lace together. Charles clamps on, returning his squeeze.

Then Erik shifts closer to him on the pillow until the profile of his face is directly opposite Charles’s, their noses touching. He brings his nose up, gently brushing the tip of Charles’s. His soft sigh, Erik feels over his mouth.

Charles moves forward next. He shuts his eyes and frowns for a long second before the creases disappear, even though his eyes remain shut. Charles brings his lips onto Erik’s pillow.

Erik doesn’t want to reach out under the sheets and squeeze his thigh and stick his tongue down his throat lasciviously.

So Erik does none of that.

The next time he moves closer, his lips are meeting Charles’s.

He doesn’t make a move to deepen it, either. He just remains silent on the bed, with his lips pressing onto Erik’s and Erik’s pressing onto his.

Charles’s mouth is warm and plush, like nothing Erik could ever imagine another man could feel like. But it’s Charles’s lips that are there, and he’s hardly _another man,_ hardly feels like one – he’s suddenly everything Erik is happy for, happy _because_ of.

 

He’s the most wonderful, the most beautiful thing to happen to him since Lorna.

 

:::

 

Their lips part with a low breathing sound. It’s not easy to pull off, and at first their bottom lips adhere together, unwilling. But it’s suddenly so important for Charles to look into Erik’s eyes and for Erik to be seeing the same thing back.

 

For the longest time, it’s all they do: stare deep into each other’s colour-filled eyes and gaze. Linked at the hands, they’re too comfortable to move out of each other’s space. They’ve just kissed each other, softly and gently – two grown men with overgrown hearts – but they’d rather die than talk about how great, how brilliant and perfect it had felt.

 

So they don’t, and Charles has never been so happy to greet silence into the air. Erik gives his hand a squeeze, and that’s all that’s needed. The kiss, _wanted_. Desperately.

 

The side of Charles’s mouth curves up in an approving, easy smile. Erik’s smile lies somewhere in his eyes before it comes to sit on the mouth Charles has felt against his. It’s like kissing him all over again, just seeing the movements of his lips influenced by the movements of his own.

 

Sometime after their eyes fall shut, a child begins to cry. Their interlocked hand is the first thing that Charles’s open eyes fall on, the first thing he sees that day. It’s both of their right hands, so the hold is slightly awkward for Erik, who keeps asleep in the same position on his stomach. Charles squeezes their hands and Erik awakes, the tenuous sleep of a parent evading from his eyes just as quickly as he hears a child’s cry.

 

Charles leans up, letting his hand fall out of Erik’s touch in the most effusive show of lingering contact, and begins to climb out of bed. For some reason, he doesn’t try to identify whose child is crying – almost as though both are theirs, shared. Then Erik presses a hand over his waist.

 

“I’ll go,” he hisses, rubbing his eye and smiling lazily. “It’s your day off. Sleep.”

 

Charles thinks that the right thing to do would be to tell Erik not to and go himself, just to show him up, perhaps – but he finds himself falling back on the bed gracefully and smiling back a similar smile as he watches Erik walk around the bed and leave the room to attend to one of their children.

 

He thinks that maybe this is it – this is how they could spend the rest of their lives. This is the thought that careens through Charles’s sleep-frazzled mind, and takes him back to a quiet dream.

 

The next time he wakes up, he has to blink up at the ceiling as he tries to understand how he’s managed to end up in the spare room, alone, when that’s never been the case in the past. Then his eyes roll back and he grins, sated and blissful, before he stretches out his aching limbs on the bed.

 

He hears Erik’s throaty laughter and freezes, heart thundering. He immediately falls out of bed and strolls towards the source of the voice, before he turns on his heel and goes to the master bedroom. David is still asleep. He did, after all, have a tiring day – walking. He leans down in the crib and drops a kiss on his forehead, brushing his hair out of the way. Then he resumes his journey to seek Erik.

 

He’s sitting knelt in front of Lorna on the sofa, buckling her shoes. Charles breathes out a sigh of happiness.

 

“Good morning,” he says.

 

“CHAA!” Lorna merrily exclaims, making her father turn around on his knees.

 

His smile is different today.

 

“Hello.”

 

“Going to the centre?”

 

“Yes. I was just going to ask you if you wanted me to take David.”

 

“No, he’ll stay at home with me.”

 

“Alright. Then I’ll be off.”

 

“Will you come back here, then.” It’s not a question, they both realise with a smile.

 

“Of course. Have a good day off.”

 

“Have a good day at work. I’ll collect Lorna. You come straight over. You have… the key, just in case I don’t reach home first.”

 

“Thank you. We’ll work on David together. When I get home.” _Home_ , Charles thinks.

 

“Good idea. Perfect.”

 

“I’ll see you later, then.”

 

Charles nods his head and leans against the wall of the doorway as he watches Erik tuck Lorna in his arm and open up the front door.

 

Then Charles tells them, “Wait!” and comes briskly over, framing Lorna’s face with his hands and kissing her small, round face. He demands a kiss in return and receives one with a giggly mouth. He looks up at Erik then, and doesn’t even think twice about it. He leans up and presses a hand on his cheek as he kisses the other one, slightly bristled with stubble. He strokes his face along the growth of the hair, and pulls his face lower down. Erik beams under his hand, eyes explicit with his happiness. Erik’s free hand takes Charles’s and kisses it, his eyes falling shut for the meet of his lips upon Charles’s soft fingers.

 

This time Erik is the one  who gives a demonstration of how reluctant he is to let go of Charles.

 

:::

 

Erik is pretty sure everyone at work even knows.

 

He’s not usually ever this happy, despite of claiming that Lorna is all of the happiness he could ever get. He could never have imagined he was going to get _happier_.

 

If you told Erik, two months ago, that he would soon be finding happiness that stretches farther than what his child alone gives him, he’d have immediately deemed you insane.

 

And now, Erik is the insane one, who spends most of him time at work thinking about the two people at home, the little girl of his life, and _just how long_ until he’ll be reunited with them all.

 

Charles is already home when Erik parks his car next to his red one. He has his key ready even before he enters the building, too happy by the prospect of having a tool to Charles’s home that doesn’t require his assistance. As he scans the entrance of Charles’s apartment building, something akin to dread knots in his gut. He has the strange sense that something wrong has happened, _will_ happen, the moment he opens the door. Since when has Erik’s life gotten so perfect? How can a little bit of kindness towards a helpless man have granted him such great proportions of lovely, utter joy?

 

But when he opens the door and lets himself inside, he sees Charles, David and Lorna, all sitting against the sofa on the carpet. Lorna has her head dropped on Charles’s shoulder and her half eyes open, staring dazedly at the pictures on the book in Charles’s hands as he reads out the words to them in his serene voice. David is in his lap, absently fingering a stuffed mouse toy as he sucks on his pacifier.

 

Erik sighs and steps inside, quiet. He shuts the door behind him without making a noise and sets his bag down on the carpet. Lorna’s eyes are ever so slightly shutting.

 

He walks up to the three of them and Charles immediately looks up, smiling. Erik puts his index finger on his lip and points towards Lorna. Charles is quick to understand, his smile widening at the sight of Lorna clinging to his arm as she slowly descends into sleep. He goes back to reading and finishes the entire book with Erik sitting across him on the ground, eyes roaming from Lorna to Charles. Charles shares a secret look with Erik before he shuts the book and nods his head towards Lorna. Erik takes his cue, bundling his daughter and patting her gently as he goes to lay her down elsewhere.

 

Back in the living room, they turn their attention to David and prop him up on his feet. They use the walker first, then they take it away to keep him up on his feet. Charles sits a foot away from him and spreads his arms out for David, prompting him to walk into his arms. He does, slowly, and then falls into Charles’s arms with a gasp. Conditioning him, they feed David his favourite food that evening and Charles puts him to sleep with complete ease.

 

Erik watches Charles lay David down in the crib and stands beside him as they watch him sleep silently. He places a hand on the small of Charles’s back and he looks down at him, before bringing him close into a much needed hug.

 

“Have you eaten anything?” Erik asks, as they return to the quiet kitchen.

 

“I was waiting for you,” Charles replies as he leans against the counter. “Food’s ready in the microwave. We just need to heat it up.”

 

“Has Lorna eaten?” he asks as he pushes the buttons on the microwave.

 

“A little bit. She’ll probably be hungry when she wakes.”

 

“Changed?”

 

“Yup. Changed them both.”

 

“Excellent,” he smiles, looking at Charles over his shoulder.

 

They eat quickly and silently. David lets out a small wail midway and Charles quickly goes to cajole him back to sleep before returning to finish his plate. Charles washes the dishes as he takes his bag and goes to change into his nightwear. He manages to make Lorna change into her night clothes too while she’s still fast asleep. Erik is sweating by the time he’s done changing her, too grateful that she doesn’t wake up.

 

Before he returns to Charles, he checks up on David and goes to the bathroom to wash his face repeatedly. There’s a tension permeating inside him, and the quicker he gets it out, the better.

 

He finds Charles cleaning up the toys on the ground when he returns. He hardly ever sees the man in a simple t-shirt and jeans, and when he comes behind him to wrap his arms around his waist, he feels the fabric against his soft, thin night clothes.

 

Erik buries his nose in Charles hair as his paler arms come over Erik’s and hold onto his hands, where they meet around Charles’s stomach. He drops his head to the side and Erik moves his face to the inviting space, tentatively brushing his lips against Charles’s flushed cheeks. He slowly begins to move him back, closer to the warmth his body emits, until they’re stuck to each other. Erik swiftly and slowly, sways him to the sound of the lullaby he hums, his mouth pressed into Charles’s neck. Charles’s hands on top of Erik’s press onto him harder, making Erik’s arms feel the muscles of Charles’s body under his t-shirt.

 

“Are you off work tomorrow as well?” Erik whispers into his skin, the tip of his nose brushing a line up and down the curve of Charles’s neck. Charles shivers.

 

“Yes,” he breathes.

 

“I’m going to take the day off. Call up sick.”

 

“Why?”

 

“I want to spend the day with you.”

 

Charles moves his head down, his eyes slowly opening up to look at the ground. He raises his eyebrow.

 

“You mean – after we’ve dropped the kids off?”

 

“Yes. You don’t… mind, do you?”

 

And Charles knows what Erik is asking. Knows because it’s not difficult to detect the suggestiveness of Erik’s statement, and the closeness of their standing – he surely, must be able to understand, that Erik’s intentions aren’t as innocuous as they’ve been.

 

Charles is breathing in and out, not answering. For long, silent moments, it’s all that Erik has to hear: the intake and expelling of air from between Charles’s parted lips.

 

“It’s been so long,” Charles finally says, his hands daftly stroking Erik’s.

 

“But…?”

 

“Nothing.”

 

“Tell me Charles. Say it. Tell me what you want.”

 

“I want things I shouldn’t. I should be happy with the way things are, but…”

 

“But nothing,” Erik says defiantly, squeezing Charles against him. Charles threads their fingers together and smiles.

 

:::

 

They hardly get a word to each other the next day. Charles runs circles around David and Lorna and keeps his gaze resolutely away from Erik, as though in one glimpse he’ll blush and melt and disintegrate into nothingness. They both go to drop the children off, and after stopping by to get food for the children and a packet of baby wipes, they drive back home in silence.

 

Coming home to the empty house, Charles walks into the kitchen, looking around the house. He feels like he should be doing something, checking up on a child, cleaning up a mess of fluids or objects. But there’s nothing, just Erik, talking quietly into his phone as he falsely informs his work place that he’s too poorly to come in.

 

Charles goes into the bedroom first. Still in his clothes, he lays down on the bed as Erik follows and shuts the door behind him. It’s eerily silent. He goes to shut the drapes, blocking out as much sunlight as possible. What comes into the room is a reddish-orange hue that tints everything like it’s on fire. Erik turns around and looks at him on the bed, his eyes blazing.

 

First, they undress each other. Erik sits over Charles on his knees and brushes his hair back over his forehead. He presses a deep kiss on his forehead and stays there, his breaths shallow and his eyes shut. Charles wets his lips, looking up at the column of Erik’s throat.

 

He sits back to unbutton his blue shirt. He takes time on each button, pausing to look up at Charles’s face. The lower the slit of his shirt becomes, the faster his breathing gets. At the last button, Erik parts the cloth slowly and looks down at his body like he’s never done so before. He scoots back and brings his head down, pressing his lips onto Charles’s hot skin. Charles is inadvertently arching up into each kiss, as Erik rains them down in a long line down Charles’s body, from sternum to navel. Charles strokes Erik’s hair when Erik reaches the front of his jeans. Even with his shirt hanging off him, he feels far too exposed, with Erik leaning over him in his polo shirt. Charles tugs it off. Erik lets him put his wandering hands all over him and explore the lines of his muscles slowly and dotingly.

 

Erik leans down again, this time their revealed torsos press together as he kisses Charles on the cheek. Each one. Then he moves slowly towards Charles’s lips, breathing over them and looking into Charles’s eyes. They’re both impatient, but they wait – wait for Charles to slowly bring his hands up and hold Erik’s face down. Down, and onto his lips.

 

It’s just like the last time – the first time, when their lips touch. Charles then pushes his lips outwards and makes the kiss louder, harder, before he sinks back down. It feels like a follow-up to a first kiss all over again, but the thrill of this exceeds anything they've ever done. Erik’s lips open, then, and press down onto Charles’s mouth again and kiss his bottom lip. Charles smiles at the sensation and kisses the corner of Erik’s mouth, his top lip, and then both. Charles’s lips separate and he gasps when Erik tilts his head and kisses him with eagerness. It’s the most beautiful kiss Charles has ever experienced, sweet and slow and just deep enough to make his heart flutter and his hands tremble against Erik’s jaw.

 

Their lips part and Erik breathes in, opening his eyes to look down at Charles’s. His eyes are green today, though his pupils are wide enough for Charles to see himself in.

 

Erik’s finger traces his mouth before moving down along the bump of his chin and the stretch of his neck. It runs down the length of his upper body and ends at his jeans, where one finger becomes accompanied by the eager hand, opening the zip and undoing the button.

 

Somehow just the feel of Erik’s fingers on the denim makes him gasp. He tries to ward off Erik’s apprehension by quickly moving his hands to Erik’s trousers. He gets the zip down, but can hardly reach the button, when Erik’s fingers are moving to clump his boxers and jeans and pull them down. He has to stop and swallow, shut his eyes and take in a bracing breath before he lifts his hips and lets Erik undress him. He kicks off the articles at the foot of his bed as Erik lifts off him and continues where Charles had left at his fastenings.

 

Erik blushes too when he’s naked. Charles looks down at Erik’s hands, covering the head of his cock, before glancing up to Erik. He seems to get really shy about it, because he ducks his head down to fold his body over Charles’s for a kiss. Charles’s hands roam to Erik’s hips as the kiss blooms and deepens, deepens further, because now they can be more bold – they are naked, after all.

 

Charles is aware of what he’s feeling, aware of all the places their bodies meet. He’s too aware of Erik’s knuckles brushing his cock as he remains holding onto it, gathering the moisture it dispenses with every brush of Charles’s tongue against his own.

 

Erik’s forehead stays on his as he lifts his head to peer down into his eyes. Charles swallows and looks back. Erik is now touching his cock, curving his hand around its girth ever so slowly. Charles is gasping loudly, wetly, suddenly ashamed and shutting his eyes. He’s never felt _this_ , hasn’t felt anything like it in almost a year. When he opens his eyes and looks down – he’s abruptly unsure of whether he can meet Erik’s gaze evenly – he sees Erik’s hand has wrapped around his cock completely. Erik’s cock is lined next to Charles’s.

 

He finds Erik’s other hand on the bed sheets and takes it. Instead of lacing their fingers together, Charles places his hand over Erik’s cock. He keeps it over the other man’s hand as he makes him wrap it around himself. He guides his wrist up and down to stroke, and soon, both of their cocks are touching and being held together in Erik’s hands as they’re draped over by Charles’s, allowing him to control the pace. Charles keeps it slow. Erik doesn’t thrust and Charles doesn’t move his hips up, much as they want to. Erik simply keeps his fist around both of their cocks and lets both of their hands touch them up and down, chasing the swell and heightening the sensation. It’s difficult, now, to tell where Charles and Erik differentiate, as their intimate parts come together in joined hands.

 

Their climax consumes them as Charles goes first, spilling onto Erik and on both their hands. They stop and Erik watches Charles closely before he pours himself thickly onto Charles. They moan and gasp and quiver until they're calm again.

 

There’s no way to tell what’s Charles’s and what’s Erik’s, in this communion of bodies. Every part of their orgasm is shared, each of them showing each other how much pleasure the other has caused.

 

:::

 

Erik pulls Charles into a hug. First he peels off the shirt that’s still there with his messy hands, and then grips him around his shoulders, up off the bed.

 

They take it to the shower. The water they’re sprayed with is warm, as are their bodies as they stand underneath the shower head and squeeze tighter. Erik has one hand over Charles’s shoulder and the other around his waist, as Charles mirrors him. They still haven’t wiped down the mess of their orgasms, too comfortable in each other’s arms under the cascading water. Charles kisses him first, down his neck and wetly on his collar bone. Erik licks into Charles mouth with the same urgency that Charles displays, holding him by the dip of his back.

 

They scrub each other clean and stay underneath for longer, aimlessly standing in each other’s hold. Erik kisses the crown of Charles’s head and clutches onto him as though he’s going to fall.

 

Maybe, they both already have.

 

:::

 

Erik turns out to be right. They _do_ grow quick.

 

Nine months turns into ten, ten into eleven, and then – suddenly, the little man is a year old and running around in a party hat.

 

And Charles has come a long way from crying in a corner with David to see who stops first. He’s come a long way from struggling to keep himself together at work, from feeding David apples. He’s memorised his mistakes and he’s reinforced good behaviour. He’s read up books, he’s mingled with other parents, and somewhere on the way – he’s given his heart away to someone who requires the most thanks.

 

Charles looks at the mirror in front of him as he adjusts the tie around his neck.

 

Erik comes behind him in his reflection and looks at him curiously. He wraps him into his arms, almost lifting him off his feet, as he peppers down kisses over Charles’s face. It quickly develops into something charged, when Erik brushes his thumb over Charles’s lip and moves in for a deep, needy kiss.

 

Something drops in the other room and Charles jumps, pushing himself out of Erik’s enveloping grasp to go and investigate. Erik laughs and follows him.

 

Charles is still smiling by the time the guests arrive – it’s mainly people from the day care centre, some of Charles’s colleagues, and of course Hank and Raven.

 

When Charles searchingly spins around his living room, Erik’s smile stands out the most. He’s meant to go and refill the refreshments, talk to Raven or Hank, but he’s instantly drawn to Erik as he walks around the room with a blindfold across his eyes, arms outstretched and trying to catch one of the many giggly children that scatter away. Charles sighs and shakes his head, turning back around to go and finally check up on the food. There’s a large, foolish smile plastered on his face, and Raven sees it. When she makes her way over, he knows she’s going to speculate. His smile wanes.

 

“Hey,” she greets, crossing her arms as she watches him pour juice into a cup.

 

“Hello, Raven,” he says, looking down at the table.

 

“So, a year old, huh? Can you believe it?”

 

Charles smiles and puts the bottle down, turning around to follow Raven’s eyes. She’s watching David, who runs around screaming with delight as Erik chases after him. The blindfold hangs around his neck now, so he finds David in an instant and whisks him up into the air. All the other children crowd around and laugh as David is turned into an aircraft above their heads that tries to catch the balloons hung on the ceiling. One of them pops in his face and he looks down in shock.

 

“I know,” Charles says, smiling uncontrollably all over again. Erik catches his eye and they share a look. Charles shies away and turns around.

 

“I’m proud of you,” she says, and Charles blushes – that had been the first thing Erik had said this morning, as he’d pressed a kiss on his forehead, David sleeping between their bodies. Charles shakes the tender thought away for another time. It’s not like he’s ready to tell Raven _anything_ about what’s been going on. “And I’m sorry.”

 

Charles purses his lips and looks down at his oxfords.

 

“I’m sorry about what I said that day. It was awful of me.”

 

“It’s alright. You were just looking out for me,” he echoes Erik’s words.

 

“You’ve done so well. If I could, I’d take all of those words back.”

 

“Well, it’s alright. It doesn’t matter. Everything’s fine.” It finally, finally is.

 

“I’m happy to hear that. And I’m happy that you’re happy.”

 

Their conversation ends in a hug, and Charles realises that actually – _now_ everything’s fine. He’s hated having this tiff with his own sister, and seeing it stretch for so long has been painful. But now, he’s glad that Raven no longer holds those views.

 

He’s happier when they’ve cut the cake, shared their elation, opened their presents, and have bustled the guests away. Angel and Hank offer to help clear up, and Charles lets them, especially when he looks at Erik, collapsed on the sofa - knackered.

 

David goes to sleep and Lorna follows after a few more hours of playing with his toys, half-bent over the rocking pony. Erik, as he always does now, puts Lorna in the spare bedroom with the intention of staying the night. In Charles’s bed.

 

Erik is sitting down on the kitchen stool when Charles finds him. With everybody sent home and the children asleep, the silence is plentiful. Erik looks up at Charles from over the birthday cake on the table and smiles. Charles walks towards him and is quickly pulled onto his lap, where he sits snugly. Erik gathers cream off the side of the cake onto his finger and brings it to Charles’s mouth. He licks it off and reciprocates, until both of them have sore, reddened fingers.

 

They collapse in bed together in a heap, too tired to even pull the covers out from underneath them. Erik still finds the strength to pull Charles close into his arms and kiss his temple.

 

:::

 

Erik wakes up to the sound of buzzing, as opposed to crying. Charles is then groaning and scrambling for his phone.

 

“Raven,” he grumbles to Erik as he pushes himself up on his elbows and attends the call.

 

All Erik hears after shocked gasps and uneven breaths is,

 

“Gabrielle is awake. She’s finally woken up.”

 

* * *

 

 

PART TWO

 

* * *

 

 

Charles swallows. He hangs up and swings his legs over the side of the bed. Then, in a burst of adrenaline, he gets up to his feet and scours the floor for his trousers.

 

“Charles?” Erik asks weakly from the bed, moving to sit up. Charles doesn’t reply; he continues to rush around for his clothes. He messily does his button-up and runs a hand through his hair before he pulls on his socks and disappears down the corridor with the baby carrier in his hand. Erik follows.

 

Charles takes David into his arms and places him inside the carrier once he’s put it on and gives him a long kiss on his head before he turns on his heel to leave the bedroom. Erik is standing in the doorway, hair mussed and body tense. Charles looks down at the floor as he tries to walk past him.

 

“Where are you going?”

 

“To the hospital.”

 

“What happened?”

 

“Gabrielle. She’s – she’s gained consciousness.”

 

Charles is aware that he’s trembling as he puts his shoes on. All he can focus on is not meeting Erik’s eyes.

 

“Your wife.”

 

“Yes, Erik, my wife. David’s mother.”

 

“Let me drop you off—”

 

“No I’ll walk. It’s impossible to find a parking spot.”

 

Then he shuts the door behind him and leaves, heading straight for the front entrance, and bolts into the streets. His heart thuds manically under David’s small palm.

 

His body takes over in bringing him to Gabrielle’s room, memorised from all the months he’d make tearful visits. But it’s been four months since he’s last gone, and this time, there’s a very heavy promise awaiting him.

 

He hears the noise and bleeping monitors from afar. His power walk turns into a run as he turns the corner and finds his wife laying on the small bed.

 

Awake.

 

:::

 

Everything that happens from then is too sudden.

 

Charles doesn’t come back to his house that day. Eventually, his wife does.

 

Then, he stops coming to day care. Erik looks for his red car every day, and finds no sign of his presence.

 

He still has a key. He wonders if he should just barge in and ask, ask what’s _happened_.

 

Instead, it’s Charles who barges in. Erik comes home one day to find all of the things he leaves in Charles’s house now sitting in neat bags on the dining table. There’s a key on top of it all.

 

Erik remembers crying a lot that night.

 

The lack of explanation, he thinks, will probably kill him.

 

But he still has a key. He still has a right. He’s shared Charles’s bed, fed David in the middle of the night, and has been a substantial part of their lives for months now. He has a right to know, he tells himself, as he clutches onto Lorna’s hand and walks towards Charles’s door. He stares at it for a long time, glancing down at Lorna, before he _knocks_.

 

He hasn’t knocked in ages, it seems, because even Lorna looks confused at how long she has to wait until the door opens.

 

Charles opens it.

 

Lorna exclaims and kicks her feet merrily.

 

Erik should find it adorable that Lorna loves him so much. Instead, he’s angry that Charles has looked immediately away – unable to hold the weight of Erik’s sodden eyes – and scoops up Lorna, who laughs with happiness. Erik doesn’t look away. He continues to stare at Charles, cursing him, close to striking him across the face again, even knowing that he’ll just latch onto him again and will kiss him into oblivion.

 

“Charles—”

 

“Come in, Erik,” Charles says to the inside of his house as he holds his daughter in his arms – arms Erik has spent nights kissing, spent nights wrapped around in – and leads Erik in. While Charles doesn’t – no, _can’t, won’t_ meet his eyes, he keeps his gaze pinned on Charles. He’s dressed neatly in blue and grey, hair swept perfectly and smile faking _nothing_.

 

Erik finds himself led to the master bedroom.

 

Before he can notice the changed sheets, he notes the woman lying inside. Erik almost winces violently at the maelstrom of images and memories and—

 

“Gabrielle,” Charles says, putting Lorna down and coming to stand closer to the bed. “I want you to meet somebody.”

 

Erik’s heart jumps to his throat, very nearly throttling him. He can barely even swallow, barely speak, barely breathe. Not in this room, not with this darn man and his beautifully fake smile.

 

The woman in the bed, who had allegedly been asleep for a year already, is waking up and blinking at Charles lovingly, as he stands above her.

 

“Honey, this is Erik.” Charles still doesn’t look at him. He tips his head his way. That’s all. Erik looks as far as he can away from the couple – he looks at Lorna, who’s sitting in a squat watching David play with a toy car. “This is the man I told you about. And that’s his daughter, Lorna. He’s the one who helped me.”

 

“Oh,” his wife says softly, her large features brightening and looking at Erik with hope. She tries to sit up, but Charles stops her, telling her to remain lain. “Erik. It’s very nice to meet you.”

 

Erik nods.

 

“Charles has told me all about you.”

 

No, Erik thinks. He probably hasn’t. He hasn’t told her about how much he loves it when Erik kisses his inner thighs and licks behind his ear and bites his nipples. _No_.

 

“I’m very grateful for all the help you’ve given in helping raise David. Thank you so much, Erik. It’s going to be great getting to know you.”

 

Erik takes great pleasure in seeing Charles’s wet eyes.

 

“And you,” he croaks. “I’m glad you’re well. Charles really _missed_ you.”

 

Now, he meets his gaze. Erik can’t take any pleasure in seeing Charles’s bottom lip tremor and his legs move unsteadily as he moves around the bed.

 

“Erik and I are just going to go catch up,” Charles says quickly, taking Erik by his arm and steering him out of the bedroom. Erik wants to fight away. Wants to take control of the situation. _He’s_ been wronged, _he_ should be taking Charles into the spare room by force.

 

Charles shuts the door behind him, staring determinedly at the ground. Erik thinks that if he speaks, if he comes forward and touches him or kisses him or does _anything_ to imply wanting him back, he’ll simply shove him off and leave.

 

The younger man takes a step forward. Erik looks at him, weary of his own rapid breathing.

 

Then he comes closer and holds onto the lapels of Erik’s coat and convulses into a sob. He cries into the material as he fists his hands into it, wrecked. When Erik looks, his mouth is wide open and his eyes are squeezed shut, shoulders shaking violently. He lets out a muffled scream and suddenly, Erik begins to panic, thinking about his wife and—

 

“I’m so _sorry_ ,” he weeps, body juddering and quaking as he continues to cry into Erik’s chest. His legs give way and soon the lapels are the only thing he’s holding onto as he sways towards the ground. Erik reaches out to hold him, places him down on his knees steadily and lets him cry his woes into his clothes.

 

:::

 

He finds Erik sitting on the bench outside the day centre.

 

Charles goes and sits next to him. Erik takes in a deep breath, as though he’s smelling the air, before he speaks.

 

“Angel told me.”

 

Charles dredges up the ability to speak. Erik manages to speak first.

 

“That you’re renewing your vows with your wife.” Erik turns to look at him with a smirk. “Aren’t you going to invite me?”

 

“Erik—”

 

“I love you.”

 

“I – I can’t say it back, Erik.”

 

“Even if you feel the same way?”

 

“Especially if I feel the same way.”

 

A car shoots past.

 

“Come to my wedding.”

 

“No.”

 

“I want you to be my Best Man.”

 

“I want you to be Lorna’s godfather.”

 

Charles gapes at him.

 

“Oh, wait – Charles – I didn’t say _father_ by any chance, did I? I said godfather, yes?”

 

“You said godfather.”

 

“Oh. Thank god. I thought I said… father. Thought I finally spoke my mind.”

 

“Stop it, Erik.”

 

“But I wish it could be _father_. I wish you could be her father. I wish I could be David’s.”

 

“Erik. Don’t do this. You know my situation.”

 

“No. Enlighten me.”

 

“I can’t just leave the woman who almost died giving birth to my son. How can I do that to her, tell me Erik? David is her son and I am her husband. What has she done to deserve being alone?”

 

“What have _I_ done to deserve being alone?”

 

“You’re _not_ , Erik. You have me.”

 

“I don’t.”

 

“You have the greatest thing any man can offer you. Friendship. Companionship. We can go back to the way it was. When we were friends.”

 

“But we’re not the same anymore. You’re happily married. I’m the poor idiot in love with you.”

 

“Erik. I value our friendship more than any of those nights we spent, any of the love I gave you and you me. It’s our friendship that helped me with David. Your friendship means more to me than anything else you’ve given me. More than I love you I’ve loved knowing our friendship. Don’t take it away.”

 

“What if I have nothing more left to give?”

 

Then Erik stands and gets up to leave, not looking at Charles once as he walks off. Charles's mouth is left hung open, his words abandoning him.

 

:::

 

Erik is cooking dinner for the two of them, working away on the countertop while Lorna sits tucked in a chair, playing uninterestedly with a squeaky toy.

 

He sits down next to her and takes a scoop of food into his spoon and blows on it to cool it. He brings it next to Lorna’s mouth and frowns when she clamps her mouth shut and turns her head away.

 

“Lorna, eat. Open your mouth.”

 

“NO!”

 

“Lorna, you have to eat. Look, it’s yummy.”

 

“NO! NO NO NO!”

 

“Lorna don’t scream. Daddy’s getting angry.”

 

She scowls at her toy and slips off her chair before running into the bedroom.

 

Erik sighs and sits back in his chair, massaging his forehead, before he rises to go and find her.

She’s sitting on the ground when he does, knees up to her chest and bottom lip protruding as she sulks.

 

“Lorna,” he calls. “Come on.”

 

He takes a step closer and sees, aghast, that she’s holding a small photograph. The one Erik keeps on his bedside table instead of his pocket. Lorna looks up at him and raises the picture of her with David into his face, yelling,

 

“DAVID! CHAARR!”

 

Erik runs a hand over his face. He comes down next to her and takes the picture from her hands, but she pulls it back. Erik frowns and lets go.

 

“Daddy, _pleeease_!”

 

Helplessly, he nods his head and moves forward to kiss her forehead.

 

Twenty minutes later, he’s on Charles’s doorstep, knocking for him. Twelve seconds later, he’s staring into his big blue eyes and watching Lorna climb him.

 

A minute later, he’s being pulled into a hug.

 

“Lorna needed you. So do I.”

 

Charles nods his head and gives Erik a squeeze.

 

He sees the rest of his single life, and decides, it’s better than being completely without Charles.

 

He sees Lorna and David running into each other and jumping up and down, Lorna emulating her hug from the photograph.

 

And over Charles’s shoulder, he sees a fridge magnet that reads:

 

_You are wonderful._

_You are incredible._

_You are extraordinary._

 

:::

 

Charles becomes Lorna's godfather.

 

And Erik - Erik never goes to Charles's wedding. Instead, he tries calling the number again. 

 

 


End file.
